She knew I did it.
I just couldn’t help myself.
her heart quickened as did her steps
with little time left she scurried to the bedroom,
with a slide of the gold button the jewelry box opened
with warm reception
dazzling bracelets hoping to be held were overlooked
there in a satin pouch lay her treasure
a gold compact case
blue rhinestones stood in a ‘ring around a rosy’
holding her captive
with a press of a tiny button the lid popped open
revealing powdered make-up
the face in the mirror was too young to wear it
and old enough to know
mother’s footsteps shortened fun
sliding her prize back among the jewelry
she made her exit
when questioned if she touched the box
she simply answered, “no”
but everyone knew otherwise
And after all these years the compact case still seems magical to me. To know she looked into this mirror that I now look into is a connection.
I have a kinship with the reflection in the mirror. She has aged through the years, as I have. Yet there is something familiar about her eyes.
No longer can I smell the powder in the compact case, but I remember it just the same. It was a faint sweetness like the fragrance of a honeysuckle flower.
I’d watch her face transform right before my eyes. The bright red lipstick would be the final touch. She looked beautiful with her raven hair and her milky white skin. I wanted to be like her.
I wish I had a mirror to show me her reflection again, instead of relying on the dusty ones in my mind. I wish I had more memories stored away.
One moment in time spans years. It makes you wonder which of your moments will be recalled in the minds of others.
Will it be a word you spoke to a broken heart? A hug you hoped would hold someone together?
Perhaps just the touch of a hand on a shoulder.
Mom didn’t know her life with us would be cut short. If so, she would have played with us and worked less. The memories of having fun with her are so few.
One New Years Day we played a board game. I stared at her as she sat with us.
The few the memories, the more valuable they are.
Watching a movie in black and white on a summer night while eating a sundae she brought home from the Snack Shop.
Riding downtown Chicago on the El after stopping at Goldblatt’s for some block chocolate.
Standing at a bus stop on a winter day and having her put my cold hand in her pocket.
Small memories can affect you in a big way.
Like a compact case, a pink high chair, or even “I love you,” etched on a piece of paper. They are valuable.
Moments make memories we keep forever.
We need to make our moments count.
What’s one memory you’ll never forget?
Today I read an inspiring post by Pamela Hodges. You can read her post HERE. Thanks, Pamela.