The nose… so missed, so forgotten, so alone. My father’s is awkward and pronounced like a bird’s. Known for his bad jokes and clowning around, the nose is goofy, misshaped, and weird. It’s flat and slanted from breaking three times.
My mother’s is opposite of my father’s beak like structure. Her’s is delicate as she is sweet and subtle. It’s small as it should be with now flaws or imperfections. She wears a tiny round diamond that’s loud yet simple.
My nose, backwards of its mother. It’s quiet but elaborate. Still small, still narrow, still her nose, but different. Mine has a dot at the tip making me the odd ball of the pack. My birthmark makes me original. It’s my creative spark that I carry with pride.
My brother on the other hand, neither opposite nor backward. That nose is the middle man; the delicate beak. The nose is strong with its bumped bridge sticking out. Still curved and wide like a fit athlete at the gym. He is goofy and weird and awkward and fun, but delicate and loud and simple and sweet.