She smelled of flour and flowers and sounded of soft whispers and firm reprimands. She read to her child every day and treated her with fairy tale trips into the big city. She made feather hats and fine speeches. She was a young mother, but because she was mother, her child viewed her as old beyond her years.
At the time, her brown hair was undefiled by gray; her face was free of wrinkles, her green eyes twinkled. And yet there was more. For sights, sounds and smells mingled into an aura that was Mother.
Once upon a time, she purchased a new dress for a special occasion - high fashion in fuchsia. Two birds of shiny black sequins and beads were appliquéd to the left shoulder, striking trim on the simple-lined garment. Dressed for the occasion, she was pretty enough to be a movie star, pretty enough to be Margaret O'Brien's mother in any movie.
Years passed and the movie-star dress faded out of fashion and mind. The child grew to maturity and put away fairy tales and make believe. Or, so she thought.
Then once upon another time, the child, now a young woman herself, was invited to an event, one so special, it required a special dress. She traipsed from store to store, but couldn't find the perfect dress. The younger woman was discouraged, but her mother who could make hats out of feathers was not.
First, she selected a pattern, then purchased an iridescent taffeta, which, chameleon-like, shifted colors with the light, first magenta, then black. And from deep within the cedar chest, she pulled out two black, shiny sequined birds to trim the left shoulder.
The dress was finished and the young woman felt as pretty as her mother had looked years ago. The evening proved to be even more enchanting than anticipated. What wrought the magic of the moment? Was it the professional tailoring of the dress? It didn't look homemade. Was it the movie-start memories awakened by two sequined and beaded birds? Or was it the mothering instinct which remembered vividly how important special occasions are to the young?
1981
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