The Rose Color that is complementary
Upon arriving to the home, the Astro mini van rolls gently into park. The heritage of the youth of her grandchildren meander up the walk way, the door slowly opens and the warmth of LOVE fills the air to match the soft fragrance from the candles aroma wafting along each room guiding us to her room, all to comfort our hearts. The question comes to my mind, will we get to see her gentle frame in peace? Yes. Satisfying at my gaze where she lays. My eyes slightly water. Her complexion is the most beautiful radiant pink. My legs feel like jello as my feet saunter slowly to the bed side. Her eyes slightly opened and her skin is as soft as the smoothest babies bottom. She is adorned in a wonderful rose color top. Upon seeing her my desire is to sit by her, touch her hand and lean over to let her know we’re here. The girls, my nephew and I made it to see her. My voice can’t seem to escape at first. Then it trikles to but a whisper … . my voice expresses to her, “Mom, it’s Ana-Lou, I am here, you look so BEAUITIFUL this morning. I LOVE YOU Oh by the way you are radiating in the rose pink top you are wearing.” Then with a smile slightly forming on her face her eyes slightly open one further and I get to see a gentle sliver of those wonderfully breath taking blues. (Side note) I LOVE EYES if that is being discovered for the first time while you are reading this blog.
I have loved her eyes since I first met her in the mid eighties. They are a brilliant cascade of blue like the open clear ocean rolling softly across the white sand on the “Blue Lagoon” in the Bahamas along Nassau. Every time I saw them I was captivated. I still am. Okay so my one wish left before she is perfectly healed is to see them fully one more time. To be captivated with the windows to her soul, like so many times before over the past quarter of a century of my life with her. However short it may be around her twenty five years, yet I know that even if that doesn’t happen then I will keep that forever in my heart.
Her hands, oh these precious hands, gently curled, She has taught me through many laughter spells how to make her corn dressing. Since the first time I shared Easter 1986 with her while she tenderly showed me “the ho to’s “ of her favorite recipes, laughing at me and designating my nickname that came just from her. The way she took care of me when I got sick in her home away from my home. Yes these hands are so warm to my history.
She is a rose. Fragile yet strong. Set and blossoming. Her life is like a the rose colored top and it is very complimentary of her life. Thanks Mom K. We LOVE YOU!!!!!!