Whimsical, impressionist, still-life, pink , mom
When I think of my mom, I remember a beautiful woman who cared about her family and her appearance til her dying day. We were a family of huggers. I never throughout my childhood went to bed without hearing “I love you” from my parents. The nighttime hugs always carried a scent as well. Mom’s pink beauty fluid, smelled of perfume, or perhaps flowers.
Like music, or color, a scent can trigger a profound memory.
Yesterday we stopped in our local drug store and the red lipsticks and rows of moisturizers lead to a purchase. Mom loved red lipstick. As she aged she went through them like crazy and I remember being grateful that a small gift of “cherry bomb”, “ravishing red” or “truly rose” could ease her day and mine.
Like most paintings, mine tell stories. This is my valentine to mom. Ole, sweet Irene!
Makes me smile--
ReplyDelete