She always wanted to be a dress designer. And but for getting paid as such, she was.
My mother loved all things fashion. Clothing was an experience — she didn’t have to say it, I knew it from the way she moved in front of the three-way mirrors. I was determined to be part of the reflection. A part of the magic.
As I began to paint, it was what she always noticed first. The ruffle of the blouse. The cut of the pants. The movement of the fabric. And the more she noticed, the more I painted. Her best compliment was, “I want that blouse.” Even a country away, my smile danced between three mirrors.
Yesterday my friend complimented the woman in my newest painting — “That dress in the painting has such movement, I can almost see and hear it swish. Beautiful. I want that dress. Madewell?” I’m still smiling. That’s the magic, I suppose, of love, of friendship, to put us all in the dressing room, to shine the light that is the best of us, and continue the dance. Swish!!!!
We don’t wear gowns in France for visits to the doctor. The windows where modesty must fly out, are left wide open. I keep a mental pile of these things I would have thought to be traumatic, just as a reminder — not unlike the sticky note above my mom’s phone that read, “What haven’t you survived?”
Yesterday, to check my lymph nodes, the doctor asked me to place my hands on her shoulders. She in turn put her hands on mine. Then just under my arms. I’m not sure anyone else heard the music, but I could have been back in Junior High at the gymnasium dance, swaying arms-length apart from last night’s worry of “would he ask me to dance.”
And that’s how we save ourselves, I suppose. Our brains our wired to come running, sticky notes in hand. Some as proof of what we’ve survived. Others just to make us laugh.
Is that why I love the color yellow? Because all of my original thoughts that come dancing on the original yellow pad? Or maybe that’s just another thought to distract me and remind me of all the love around me. I don’t know, but I still hear the music. So I raise my arms on shoulders, in the air, and I keep on dancing.
