Abuela taught mama well.

Maybe too much so, because

She was like a perfect daughter, and now

I suppose she thinks I’ll be like her.

I try hard,

Truly, I do—

But I am not a perfect daughter.

I try to explain,

“I’m not you!”

She doesn’t understand—

Can I ever get her to?

Great expectations!

Too high, the bar is set—

I cannot reach.