The screen door of the cafe creaks open.  Someone holds the door for a mom with a stroller and  for a child.  The child is one of those little kids so small you can’t believe they’re actually walking on their own two feet, her hair put up in two limp ponytails made from three or four wisps of hair each.  This particular diminutive girl also wears a pair of round blue glasses, and had clearly visited a face-painting booth earlier in the day.  Her cheeks sport blue stars with arcs of color streaming out behind them.  She navigates the stairs like an old pro.

I look up to see who is holding the door and see a grimy, black-clad man with facial tattoos.  He is covered in facial tattoos.  In trying to make sense of this tableau, I think to myself that this must be the dad because, look, he and the girl look alike, both sporting blue-ish color on their faces.

A second later, I laugh at myself.  I am reminded of friends who have children they’ve adopted and who encounter others who remark on how much their child looks like them.  I did this myself this week when clients brought in a newly adopted baby and I caught myself searching for – and finding – a resemblance.

Our brains so enjoy making connections, finding patterns.  I love that about us.

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