full moon in Leo

A Study in Transgenerational Epigenetic Inheritance

and Potential Mechanisms for Intentional Modification

I coveted my mother’s eyes—

when I learned about colored contacts I tried to DIY a pair from the green moldable plastic of one of my sister’s folders, cutting tiny, jagged-edged, circles that scratched me when I tried to wear them—their round shape and greyish green hue forever slipped through the cracks between my fingers.

I did, however, inherit her eye for bullshit. 

I grew up hearing that I had my grandma’s smile

although I couldn’t see it until 

and she moved from Colorado to the 

small gold chain culminating in a delicate pair of birds perched flatly against my chest, 

just below my collar bones

those are her’s too, I think 

because my mom has them as well.

my cheekbones, on the other hand, come from my dad’s mom 

without meeting her, I’ve benefitted from her love, her values, and the sharpened bone structure of her lineage. 

it used to be that I had to look closely to find them 

but now I can see the stitches between all of the bits I’ve seized, pieced together like a living rag doll of features my environment could spare.

I have my dad’s forehead wrinkle, a worry line that carves itself deeper each year. 

I guess it really comes from my grandad

my sister has it too. 

that gene, I suppose, is dominant

along with an aesthetic love of glassware, a struggle that my blood enlisted in generations ago, and a high spice tolerance, I wouldn’t call those recessive either. 

countless recipes, weekends at the family farm, holidays I’ve cherished but still celebrate less and less each year

I have speculations regarding my mental health, but the weak ankles for sure, the lactose intolerance, and the vegetarianism; as well as a predisposition for Alzheimer’s, diabetes, and hypertension. 

It was an act of deconstruction 

finding trails of other people all over my body 

stuffed into my bellybutton and tucked behind my ears,

or maybe those were someone else’s too?

1.5 dimples, straight teeth, lean muscles

a hot temper cooled by a strong aversion to conflict 

silence and curiosity, and the negotiation of the space living between them 

big feet, biting wit, and a sarcastic sense of humor

trust issues and touch issues 

a fear of disconnection masked by a once-unquenchable thirst for validation  

my height, obviously. 

my mom showed me how to sew

while she performed surgery on my best friend, a stuffed cheetah, for the millionth time

my eyes became saucers of accusation as I watched her make the hole in cheechee’s tail bigger

but my sensitivity to other’s might be her’s as well, because smelling my fear, she shared a piece of information from her grandmother 

mending something is usually a matter of figuring out how it was originally put together, she said 

when fabric is joined, the seams become a step by step guide for assembly 

everything you need to know about restoring something

can be learned by taking it apart.