Until I was seven years old, I stayed with my Aunt Minnie and Uncle Homer…yes, those were their names…no-really!
There are two things I remember most about Minnie and Homer’s house. Having to take a nap every day and watching for my mother to come home. I started the, “how many more minutes” game at about twenty-minutes until five. Somehow in my little-girl mind, Homer was magic because he got it right every time.
When my mama came through the door, I ran to her as fast as I could and she wrapped me in her arms while I smothered her soft, smooth face with kisses. She smelled like heaven and looked like a Forties Movie-star. Her deep red lipstick and powdery make-up was still perfect at the end of the day. She was more beautiful that anything I’d ever seen. Her coat absorbed all the perfume smells and the soda fountain aromas from the Vee Drug where she worked. I would bury my face in the folds of her dark blue, nubby coat for as long as she’d let me. I can still remember how the lining of that coat made a silken rustling sound as she bent down to hold me. I wanted to keep the smell and that sound with me forever, and in a way I guess I have. Anytime I miss her, I close my eyes, remember the perfumey smells and see her movie-star face.
My mother is in Heaven now. I believe she sometimes wears her dark-blue, nubby coat, puts on her deep red lipstick and thinks of me.