May 11, 2021
I remember watching my mom as a little girl. She was a beautiful person both inside and out. I remember hoping and praying I’d be beautiful, like her, when I grew up. I watched ever so closely as she put on her makeup, curled her hair, used 12 cans of aqua net hairspray (the higher the better) to keep it perfectly in place. She wore her pants so tight she had to lay across the bed to button and zip them. If it was cutting off her circulation she couldn’t tell. She was to into dancing with the Mr. Micheal Bolton to care. While I just stared, amazed at how she could dance in those 6in red high heels. Last but not least she’d spray on her favorite perfume (back then was)...Halston. I would be waiting wrist out for my one spray and she’d say “now rub em together, and I’ll be home from work before you know it. I love you Babygirl!” Somehow she knew that one smell (her) would comfort me on nights she couldn’t be there.
She brought the sun out in the mornings and put the moon to bed at night. To me...she was magic. As I grew older and the magic of the innocence slowly faded she was the rock to always keep me steady, keep me grounded and keep me safe. She wasn’t perfect, but she was perfect to me.