Memoirs de mon grandpére

I have always heard it said, in cheap psychology, that girls tend to marry their fathers - and boys their mothers'. oh may fate help my poor son!! - meaning that usually they end up adjoining their lives to that of a man that bares a lot of resemblances to their dads, psychologucally speaking.

I wouldn't know about that. My husband bares next to none in common with my late father, in terms of personality, despite the fact that they share the same horoscope sign, despite the fact they root fo the same soccer club, despite the fact they share the same appreciation for good food. But that's about all, you see.

In terms of personal traits I find my husband to remind me far more of my grandfather than of my father. You see, my grandad was a military man who liked to dabble in science. My husband is a science teacher. My grandad enjoyed having a kind of a uniform to wear daily - when he was in the army, it was easy, and obvious and logical that he would be in uniform the whole time - and so he pretty much had the same pieces over and over again. In the same colours.

If I tell you my husband has about three pairs of the same cut of jeans, and this repeated over four different cuts of jeans that in essence are pretty much the same type of skinny, tight jeans, only difference is the colour and the thickness of the thread, would you believe it? I bet you would. Much like my grandfather, he is a creature of habits, and that is good.

Because it makes it easier to know what to get hime everytime, be it the same parfume, like this Zara one, which I usually alternate either with the Gold or the Red, both being favourites around my husband, or a burgundy round collared sweater, light and easy to wear, or even some piece of technology that has caught his eye. The only times I strayed from these regular features, trying to introduce a note of something different in his life and habits... well, let's say I'm currently wearing the most gorgeous braided knit roll neck maroon sweater ever. Because braided knit will not do for him.

Just like my grandfather. Simple things, plain things, always the same kind of things. Acreature of habits, and that has kept the memories simple and alive inside my mind, it's so easy to remember him, as he always wore the same things, and he always liked the same things. I particularly remember this watch on his wrist, and the way those lunar crescents would sparkle in the sun when he took me to the park. Or when he sat reading on his sofa, by the lamp light, reflected on the watch. No wonder I wanted my husband to have this. And our son, in the future. Who also quite resembles his great grandfather. And that makes it easier to keep the memory alive, and makes me happy to see that my boy has in him the traits of a man I so admired and loved and feel proud to call grandad.


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