History repeats itself

My mother and I have a lot in common.

She served as a missionary.
So did I.

She successfully dated someone across the Atlantic (without Skype, Gmail or long phone calls!!).
So did I.

She married a foreigner.
So did I.

She left her family, country and language for her love.
So did I.

She married fair skin and light eyes.
So did I.

Now my feelings and thoughts about my pregnancy mirror hers from the time she carried me. She told me she recognizes everything so well she can't believe how fast time has passed since her first (me).
Her excitement over the first grand baby is obvious.

I've never been closer to my mother than I am now.