Saturday, October 30, 2010

Through A Mother's Eyes

She sits on my lap in the porch.
Even though the temps are frigid the sun pours in as if it might be 80 degrees.

She sits there, playing with the remote control.

The sun glows on her skin.

Her cheeks are pink and plump.  I wonder if I might sneak a taste.  Just one.

Her hair, smooth and shiny.

She wears a ridiculously large bow to hold back her chin-length bangs.

Her lashes curl just so and are a million miles long.

Her lips are perfectly pink and pouty.
I am in awe.

I rush for my camera hoping not to waste the moment.

She senses its presence and offers a smile.
 Then, suddenly, she pretends to be shy.
There are days I can't believe this beauty was born of me, born of my mother, born of my grandmother...

Will she ever see herself as beautiful as I do?

Will I ever think of myself as beautiful as my mother did when I sat on her lap, bathed in sunshine and perfectly ripe?

Did my mother ever think of herself as beautiful as my grandmother did?

How much better we would all be if we could see ourselves through our mother's eyes.

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