“He looks so much like you!” Or some variety, was something I’ve always heard. I first remember the comparison to my grandfather when I was very young but evidently it went back as far as when I was an infant according to my grandma. I was about 11. New Year’s Eve. The attendees were my parents, my grandparents, and aunts and uncles I hadn’t seen since I was “this big”. A lot of alcohol. I don’t remember fearing anything more than the big, gaudy bottle of liquor that always found its way to family gatherings. I’d always get an uneasy feeling, with my grandfather as well as any other adult in my life when they had too much to drink, like it was someone who was so unfamiliar and untrustworthy to me. The smell of their breath disgusted me, the way they talked was like it’s own language that I didn’t speak, and they moved as if performing a poorly choreographed ballet. I’d seek out my grandma for comfort, since she was, much to her dismay, the designated sober. Then the family scrapbook wo...
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