I’m going to try

I’m going to grow wild strawberries, in my garden. I’m going to, because my great grandfather did. And each time when I’d came over for Easter, he’d let me pick a few.

I’m going to make juice, out of black currants from my garden. Like my grandfather does, with the ones from his father’s. I’m going to learn how to cook intricate, big dishes, just like my father, and step-father. 

I’m going to own a nice little villa in the countryside, just like my uncle. And just like him I’ll make my own honey, and sausage, and I’ll keep my own chickens.

And just like my brother I’ll go study English in some great college, that my father got a deal on. 

But I’m not sure I’ll be exactly like them at all, because I don’t have the thick moustache my grandfather does, and I don’t have that rumbling voice of my father, or my uncle, and I don’t have the same rough, thick, streak of hair as the one running down my brother’s stomach.