When we are young adults, busy with jobs and raising our children, we are sometimes surprised when we hear our parents’ voice coming from our own mouths. Maybe mom’s favorite expression is one we now use on our own kids. “Don’t let your face freeze like that.” “If you’re gonna kill your brother, do it in the yard; I just mopped.” Sometimes it sneaks up on us and we say, “I’ve become my mom.”
I bought some new make-up in April of 2017, Bare Minerals, in fact. It’s made in the U.S.A. and my friends will tell you, “Janice shops America FIRST.” Put an American to work; but I digress.
So while I liked this new make-up, it was difficult to use at first. My glasses are bi-focal and were lying on the counter top beside the bathroom sink while I tried to twirl, tap and mop the brush across my face. The soft bristles danced across my left cheek…wait…did I already dust that side? It’s hard to tell. Bringing out the 3X mirror and taking advantage of all the light bulbs overhead and still, I’m not sure. Maybe I needed more natural light and the sunshine itself seemed to help.
While trying to get to sleep at 12:50 one night it occurs to me that maybe, if it’s not raining or too windy I could apply my mineral powder OUTSIDE, on the deck. And then, BAM! Flashback to 1969 or maybe 1970 and in my mind’s eye, I see my grandmother standing on her front porch as she dabs that round, semi-pink puff over her face before leaving for church on Sunday morning.
At the same time, my younger self has a cold homemade biscuit to use to shine my black, patent leather shoes. (You ain’t lived until you’ve tried to polish your shoes with a biscuit and keep dog slobber off at the same time.) So, I’m bent over, polishing my shoe with a biscuit that is crumbling and my fingers are dodging the dog tongue which is grabbing up the crumbs and spoiling the shine on my shoes. (It was a big dog.)
Grandmother, aka “Mother” to everyone in, and close to, the family, is powdering her face, and tonight, as I ponder how to get the best out of my Bare Mineral investment, it occurs to me, I have become my Grandmother.
The woman who made me toast under the broiler in the oven because there was no toaster in her kitchen; the woman who heated everything in a pot on top of the stove because there was no microwave; the woman who let me ‘help’ feed the chickens and gather the eggs has gone to be with Jesus. She would be amazed at the things we take for granted; ie, Facebook and texting, among others.
She lives in my heart as a woman who loved me and took me to church and let me “sing” so very loud and so very off-key. This same woman never drove a car but taught me to make a lemon pound cake that has become my one-easy-thing to take to a church social. She is loved and missed and I’ll find my daylight and tackle my new make-up. Just don’t ask me to polish my shoes.
Until next time, I’ll be…Rambling On.