We all have about 22,000 genes and sometimes we share enough genes with our family to be an almost identical copy of them. Although there may be 50 years between the 2 photos, their faces look the same thanks to the magic of these genes. There are some people who are carbon copies of their relatives, confirmed by their photos that simply blow us away.
Bright Side would like to share with you just how cool our genes can be with some exceptional photos we found.
1. “My mom and sister, both at age 6”
2. “My mom (left) age 4 in 1971. Me (right) age 4 in 2001. I see why people say we look alike.”
3. Grandmother 1941 and granddaughter 1999, same genes
4. “Me, 1992. Mom, 1954.”
5. “Here’s me and my fraternal twin.”
6. “Me on the left (circa ’90s, Canada) and my grand-dad (circa ’40s, Ireland).”
7. “My old man and me at the same age, 35 years apart.”
8. “Me in 1971 and my son in 1994”
9. “My mother at age 21 (L) and me at age 27.”
10. “My father, age 24 in 1951. And 24-year-old me.”
11. “I always knew that my mom and sister looked alike, but seeing them side by side is uncanny.”
12. “My brother (2016) and my grandfather (1948)”
13. “I’ve been told a lot that I look like my Finnish grandma.”
14. “My dad 1958… Me 1988.”
15. “Side-by-side comparison of my identical twin and me.”
Who do you look most like in your family? Share a photo of someone you look like so that we can compare!
Preview photo credit mrobry / Pikabu
Why My Husband Divorced Me When He Received This Picture From Me?! It’s The Reason That Shocked Me…
It was one of those peaceful, quiet afternoons that make you feel at ease, surrounded by the calm of the open field and the gentle rustling of leaves. I leaned against the truck, enjoying the warmth of the sun and the solitude, and thought about sharing a small moment of my day with my husband. The truck looked picture-perfect against the trees, so I snapped a quick photo and sent it off without a second thought.
The reply came back almost instantly, and it wasn’t what I had anticipated.
“Who’s that in the reflection?”
I frowned, reading his words again, unsure of what he meant. I hadn’t seen anyone. “What reflection?” I typed back, a slight unease building.
“The rear window. There’s someone there,” he replied, his tone suddenly more serious.
Heart pounding, I opened the photo and zoomed in, focusing on the rear window’s reflection. At first, I assumed it was just a glare, maybe a trick of the light or a shadow from the trees. But as I studied it more closely, my stomach twisted. There was, indeed, a figure—a faint outline of a person standing just behind me. The more I looked, the more familiar the shape became. A man in a hat, his face obscured by the brim’s shadow.
My breath caught. It looked just like the hat my ex-boyfriend used to wear, one he was rarely seen without.
A chill ran through me. I had been alone, hadn’t I? I hadn’t noticed anyone when I took the picture, and the field was empty, just me and the truck. But there he was, unmistakably standing close enough to be caught in the window’s reflection. How was this even possible?
I tried to calm my husband with a hasty reply. “It’s probably just a shadow or something from the background. I was definitely alone.” But even I felt the uncertainty in my words.
His response came back with unwavering suspicion. “That doesn’t look like a shadow. It looks like him.”
My stomach churned. I knew exactly who he meant, and it didn’t seem real. It was as if my past had come creeping into that quiet afternoon, catching me off guard in a way I couldn’t quite rationalize. Could my ex somehow have been nearby, without me noticing? Or was it just a terrible trick of timing that happened to look exactly like him?
I stared at the photo, scrutinizing the figure in the reflection. The way he stood, the hat—it all felt too familiar. No matter how hard I tried to convince myself otherwise, the unease wouldn’t subside. What if it really was him, somehow lingering on the edge of my present?
I called my husband, my voice shaking, trying to explain, to tell him it had to be a weird coincidence. But the doubt was palpable, filling the silence on the other end of the line. When he finally spoke, his tone was distant, guarded. “I don’t know,” he said slowly. “That reflection… it doesn’t feel like a coincidence.”
After the call ended, I sat there, staring down at the picture that now seemed to hold far more than just a snapshot of my day. That faint outline of a man in the background was like a shadow, dredging up something from the past I’d thought was over and done with.
In the days that followed, everything between us felt off, like a shift we both felt but couldn’t quite fix. The image of that figure in the reflection hung over us, an uncomfortable reminder of my past and a mystery I couldn’t answer. I tried to assure him it was nothing, that I had been alone, but the trust between us felt shaken, as though something essential had been altered by that tiny, barely visible reflection.
What was meant to be a simple picture, a small shared moment, had suddenly changed everything, casting a shadow neither of us could escape. And in that small, haunting detail, we found ourselves questioning what should have been unquestionable.
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