One could easily say I have an oddly shaped nose. And when I was younger, my thoughts matched that sentiment. It wouldn't be a stretch to say I could have been heard echoing the words of Amy March "it's not like being stuck with the dreadful nose you get." My mother has a gracefully turned up nose and my sister a small, feminine nose. I never liked my own.
Until one morning, in Parawon Utah, in my great-grandmothers house I woke before the sun and tip-toed my way up the basements stairs. My Grandpa John was washing his morning dishes, humming to himself and I saw it. My nose. My Grandpas nose. A Denhalter nose. I said "Good morning, Gramps, I think we might share a nose" and he looked at me and said "My goodness, Katey-did... we do."
And I've loved it ever since.