She always comes up when I need her most. I don’t know if that statement is fully true, because she’s always there. Tangibly so, my mother is being brought to me full circle. Her garments. Pieces I thought I’d never see myself in, i now can’t stop myself from wearing. Treasures I tell you… treasures. Found on the ground outside of my father’s car as he gave it a jump for a dead battery. They’d been in his trunk. After a day of not being able to get what I’d seen out of my head, I brought the tattered bag of clothes inside. Up to my room. They laid in my studio floor for the entire day. Blessing the place. Becoming more acquainted. They haven’t been inside this house for 13 years. Now for a new body. It’s as if she picked out the fit. I dressed, laughing. Saying aloud to myself, “wow, my mother is dressing me”. I take her on and we simply become what we’ve been. One. This post is to my mother. A woman unafraid to push the limits of pattern, texture and grace. And this is to me, baby stepping or perhaps great strides.
I love you.