Rambling Word

Look at my mother's face,
and see the most beautiful woman in the world.
It's got all those marks on it... you might call her a cheese face.
But she's MY cheese face.
And her cheese face will own yours any day.
She doesn't hide it with much.
Just a little powder and a smile, and she's on her way.
God, I think about her and I wonder how she smiles and she's so patient with everyone.
And how she has, so she gives what she can.
She's a dreamer and a realist.
She knows what she wants, and what she can get.
I wonder how she feels the few times she looks at me. The little trooper.
I almost died.
Lost one before my brother.
And one right before me.
Doc's weren't expecting me to live long- here I am.
Babysitter refused to watch me any more. Afraid I might die under her supervision someday.
Suppose things didn't go according to plan.

I might not look the most like her. But I don't need to. I behave very much like her, down to the most minute and irrelevant detail.
She barely raised me.
That makes me think about that famous question: nature or nurture?
Of course,
I learned to hate from you.
But no one taught me to pull my feet back from any kind of splashing water.
And how is it that in a family full of pigs, I eat as tidily as she?