During Easter Break, I found myself rewatching Mamma Mia! which used to be just another classic for me, something I watched because everyone said it was the perfect comfort movie for your teens. As I rewatched it, aside from the ABBA songs I used to be obsessed with, it was Donna and Sophie's mother-daughter relationship that drew me in. I finally understood why people felt such a deep connection to this movie, especially during the scene when Slipping Through My Fingers played. Now, for me, it hits way too close.

My mother has always been my best friend, my confidant. Every one of my friends has met her, and whenever they do, they always say how much we look alike—like twins or even sisters. It's the first thing anyone notices when they see a picture of us. So, maybe the first thing she didn't mean to give me was her face, the one that's always there when I look at myself.

And with it came all the other pieces of her she never even realized she was sharing.

Like Donna and Sophie, we were the kind of mother and daughter who moved through life like mirrors in ways that only made sense the older I got.

I wear her everyday

(Screenshot from Mamma Mia! Here We Go Again (2018))

Occasionally, my mother and I would do a deep clean of our closets, drawers, and boxes. Each one had its purpose: old clothes, special-occasion outfits, bags, among everything else.

Sorting through them always felt like uncovering pieces of both her and my childhood. But before the nostalgia kicked in, I was mostly just excited about the idea of getting new clothes, especially ones that felt one-of-a-kind, like her old pants that fit me perfectly or that timeless black tube dress. It felt like I was stepping into her life through her clothes. No one else would be wearing the same thing because they were old, and that made them even cooler.

As we pulled out old items, I often asked what brand they were. She'd tell me, but always with something extra like where she got it, if it was a gift, or what memory it held. Sometimes, she'd even share a story from the day she wore it. To her, clothes were never just clothes. She always said she took care of them, so I should too. And without meaning to, she passed that sense of value on to me.

Whenever we do this, it's always interesting and exciting for me because aside from getting new clothes, I also get a glimpse of her life before me through old photos. Even though I've seen them countless times, it never gets old. Seeing her life before I was a part of it was something else.

These pictures also show me that beyond the hand-me-downs, I also picked up her style habits, such as how she always wears sunglasses and caps everywhere, her go-to perfumes, or the kind of shoes she likes. Growing up, she was my style icon. We even used to do photoshoots at our old house. She dressed me up when I was a kid, and even now, we still ask each other what to wear—like a quiet kind of teamwork.

But not everything she passed down could be folded and worn; some of her hand-me-downs lived in ways I couldn't see, but they still stayed with me.

The hand-me-downs that can’t be worn

(Screenshot from Mamma Mia! (2008))

Parts of her she never meant to give but that I picked up without even noticing—like being obsessively clean. She brings wipes and alcohol everywhere, not the travel-sized ones, but huge bottles. Maybe other people do this too, but I don't know anyone who does it like her. I only realized I had picked up this habit during a school fieldwork trip when I caught myself wiping down everything I was about to touch on the bus and laughed, knowing exactly where I got it from.

Another is the way she packs. Always with oversized bags, always prepared. Every outfit goes into its own pouch or plastic; each detail is thought out to make things easier later. Again, maybe others do it too, but for me, it's always been an unmistakable habit of hers and our family.

But beyond these small, almost comical habits, there are deeper traits I've come to recognize. The way she manages stress without letting it weigh on others, how she remains grounded when everything else isn't, or how she always shows up for our family without hesitation. She never sat me down to teach these things. I simply saw her and carried them with me, hoping that one day, I could be as steady and selfless.

And at times when we argue or fail to understand each other, we're still mirrors of one another. When silence stretches between us or pride keeps us from speaking first, I see her in me, too. It's not always easy or pretty, but even then, the bond between us stays. I just hope that never changes. Because we all make mistakes and we learn. And maybe without meaning to, she taught me that love remains even when it's hard. Especially when it's hard.

These hand-me-downs are ones that I can never wear but shape me all the same.

What once was hers

(Screenshot from Mamma Mia! Here We Go Again (2018))

I've always been one to hold on tightly to sentiment, especially when it comes to my childhood. Like I mentioned earlier, it's always a quiet joy to find old photos of me and my mom whenever we deep clean, especially the ones I don't even remember being in.

In those photos, I'm often surrounded by people. Some I still know. Others, I've forgotten. So every time we flip through an album, my mom would tell me stories: who those people were, where we were, or what was happening.

And it's true, as ABBA said: “Sometimes I wish I could freeze a picture and save it from the funny tricks of time” because time has passed. Things have changed. And some days, I wish they hadn't. I wish I could stay as a little girl, safe in these people's arms.

That's why some inheritances don't come as traits or things; they come as people.

When I was in preschool, my mother's sister always did my hair because my mom didn't know how to. My mother's brothers, whom I've always called 'daddy' since I was a kid, acted like fathers to me. My grandparents cooked my breakfast before school and woke me up so I wouldn't miss the bus. They were all once part of my mother's life—and now, they're part of mine, too.

I grew up surrounded not only by my mother's love but with the love she gave away so freely. Through the people she trusted and cared for, I received pieces of her. She never meant to pass herself down through them, but she did. And just like her old clothes, her warmth and care linger in unexpected places.

As I near my twenties, my life may be the biggest hand-me-down because it started with hers. Even without trying, she has influenced so much of it and the kind of person I'm becoming. And while it's all mine now, I'd like to think that I'm sharing it with her, not something she owns but something we both shaped.