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By Alli Wade
22 has proved to be an interesting age. Growing up, I always imagined my 22nd year of life to be exactly as Taylor Swift had promised me in her hit song– “happy, free, confused, and lonely in the best way.” This lyric is certainly holding its weight in many regards. As I am approach graduation and ponder where my next steps will carry me, I have been forced to engage in some deep self-reflection. I look at myself and see a girl as free as she has ever been. I see a young woman who is slowly discovering herself in her truest, most sincere form. Mostly, though, I see someone I already know. As I grow into the woman I am destined to be, I slowly see myself becoming the woman I know best– my mom.
I’ve always been told I’m the spitting image of my mom. For years, I simply couldn’t see the resemblance. I emphatically urged people to notice the differences between us. I mean, we don’t even share the same eye color. There is no way we could resemble one another. The comparisons didn’t end here. Family members constantly insisted that I got my argumentative spirit from my mom. Neither of us have been known to turn down a hearty debate. Regardless, I desperately maintained that we were two totally different people. I begged to be seen as an individual– an original, rather than a copy.
Still, as hard as I tried to believe otherwise, I, too, recognized the similarities between the two of us. When we argued, we never disagreed. Instead, we fought over who believed in our position the most relentlessly. We shared the same style and even picked the same outfit throughout the week, realizing only once it was too late to change clothes. It was obvious. We really were the same person.
Turning into your mother is often seen as cliché, but I’ve always believed that clichés become cliché for a reason. They are often the ways we communicate what we know to be a universal truth. As I’ve gotten older, I realize that I have fortified this truth. At the end of a long day, I instinctively turn on a Norah Jones album. When November 1st strikes, I crave nothing more than a warm cup of coffee and a Christmas movie. My favorite shows are her favorites too. I love a fierce political debate and loathe being wrong. In the face of tough times, I tell myself, “You learn the most through adversity.” I pray and I laugh and I love. All of these things, I learned from my mother.
I realize now that all those years people told me I am just like my mom, they weren’t just making astute observations. They were complimenting me. My mom is the strongest, most devoted woman I have ever or will ever know. To me, she is truly more precious than rubies. On my worst days, I know I can always turn to her for a dose of loving but stern guidance to set me back on track. She is my greatest mentor and is always one step ahead of me. When I am ready to give out for the day, she is still going, checking three more things off her to-do list. She outworks anyone you put her up against and can talk her way out of any scenario. Because of her, I have known whole-hearted, self-sacrificial love.
As I step back and watch a woman continue to courageously face new challenges with grace and strength, I can only hope that I become my mother.
Alli Wade is a McConnell Scholar in the class of 2022. She is studying political science and criminal justice at the University of Louisville.