I have become my mother!

I swore it would never happen, but the inevitable has been sneaking up on me for years. For one thing, I see her in the mirror. The first few times I gasped out loud, but I'm getting used to it. The funny thing is I never looked like her when I was younger. Maybe all those genes were just waiting to let loose all at once. I know I sound like her, at least her inflections and little sayings. Every once in a while one of my daughters will catch me in a gesture and say, "Oh, that was such a grandma face!"

Some habits are engrained—taught, trained, repeated. As children, we learn them; as adolescents, we fight them; as grownups, we adopt them. So many things I do are because my mother either did them or drilled the behaviors into me. I see those same traits and expressions in my own daughters.

Today, I was particularly aware of how much I am like my mother. It is Sunday. I had no particular plans except to work (Sunday ... Tuesday ... Friday ... that's what I do). But first, I did the morning ritual: washed my face, brushed my teeth, made coffee, and drank it while I read a mystery. Then, I went into high gear, from shower to serious hair and make-up to straightening up my condo. My outfit, selected for comfort, was coordinated; so was my jewelry.

Here is the irony. I wasn't going anywhere. I never left the house; no one dropped by. The only person who even knew I went through all that effort was yours truly. I was ready for company or the mailman or anyone. But that really wasn't the point. My mother was always immaculately groomed and coordinated, earrings to toenails. That's what I remember most vividly. That's what I admired. That's what I loved about her.

The What's-it-all-about-Alfie? question

When life perplexes me, as it does often, I find myself singing (well, I can't sing, so I just hum) that line from the original Alfie movie. I usually conclude that I have no more idea of what's it's all about than Alfie did. I remain in the dark as to the meaning of life.

But last night I went to a 75th birthday party for someone I have known since he was sixteen and I was fifteen. That's a lot of years. It's hard to describe the party without telling everyone's life's story. Suffice to say, there were many people there from my past and present lives—people I had not seen for years and people whom are inextricably tied to my heart. I hugged relatives and friends who now have gray hair; I marveled at how much or how little we had changed; I treasured every conversation, no matter how brief.

It was a bittersweet event, tinged with memories and emotion. I drove home replaying the tape of the evening in my my mind, and before I dozed off, I had a single moment of clarity. I knew the answer.

Alfie, pay attention. It's all about the connections we make with others in our brief journey through this life. It's about relationships.