Kate walks on the beach in front of me, her father to her right.
I don’t know what, exactly, I am looking for. Something, anything, which shows they share a gene pool— a 6th toe maybe? A flair on the right pinky which had been passed down through generations of Thompson feet?
Flesh squished into sand as the ocean splashed up on our ankles.
With each step, I became more and more disappointed. Their footprints looked the same.
In fact, All of our footprints looked the same.
Why was this crushing me?