My family consists of two pairs of noses. A pair of noses flecked with freckles. The first pair, my father and I, our noses are buttons. Compare the two side by side and see a stump little tree trunk, see flakes of dry skin that feel like sandpaper peeling off the end, see a bridge that is subtle and inconspicuous, hear gusts of wind grazing nose hairs with my father’s inhalation, see a bulbous tip as round as a ripe red onion. And we are good at smelling strong onions indeed.
The second pair, my sister and my mom, their noses are bananas. Compare the two and you are guaranteed to see a long, curvy slope, a long, curvy slope that fits their face flawlessly. See the traits of an untanned Irish, remnants of sunburn scars tickling the tops of the ramp, see a turned up edge as pointy as the needles of a porcupine. Despite our differences and endless similarities, all four of our noses paint gorgeosity along a pale canvas, a pale canvas woven with the family genes.