I have always
gone my own way.
Even so,
I’ve often been told,
“You are so much
like your mother.”
What would I
have learned
about myself
if she had lived?
Would I be
more me,
more her,
more whole?
My deepest loss
is that I’ll never
know for certain.
Casey Laine looks and sounds so much like her mother that a stranger once approached her at a restaurant and asked if she were Lesa’s daughter. She is both Lesa’s daughter, and perhaps, in a way, part of Lesa’s legacy, having inherited not only her looks, mannerisms, and inflection, but also her interest in books, houseplants, and philosophical reflection. This poem is dedicated to her memory, with utmost love.