…we carry our ancesters with us in our every gesture: Who has not caught himself performing an action as quotidian as picking up a glass, brushing the dust off a mantelpiece, only to realize with a start (one of the only things one ever does “with a start”) that it is one’s father, one’s mother, whose tiniest gesture is being unconsciously but minutely reproduced?
Recall father and brother going over golf clubs. Suddenly realized that they were left-handed clubs. Asked my brother if he was left-handed. Surprised, since I thought I was sure he was right-handed. Response was I am right-handed, but swing left. Surprised; so do I. Surprised; so did our father.
Taken for granted for years, then noticed in a moment. Maybe with a start.