Mom's Handbags

Image: found at thisisnext.com


Note: October is Breast Cancer Awareness month. In order
to draw attention to the issue, women have been asked to
post on their Facebook wall where they place their handbags when
not in use..."I like it in/on the..." Last night my two sisters
and I tried to remember things about our mother and her
handbags. She died of breast cancer in April 1995, at the age
of 52. Please support breast cancer awareness, and promote
the lifestyle choices that prevent it.

Time has been kidnapping our memories

of the little things:

Her daily routines,

the zany habits.

We used to laugh –

with her and at her.

Today we tried to recall handbags.

There was the decoupaged wooden box

with a cold metal strap that she crafted

herself in the basement in the ‘70s.

In the ‘80s we were broke.

She made do with a LeSportsac

hand-me-up

and a gray faux leather bag,

so frayed at the edges that

the cording showed.

Grandma complained at the sight of it,

nearly as much as she complained

that Mom needed a haircut

in order to show off her neck better.

In the ‘90s she took to big totes,

carting around her knitting,

reading materials,

and colorful scarves -

Things to bide her time

and distract.

She wasn’t good at keeping house

or tending handbags.

She’d dig and dig

and dump on counter tops

for keys, glasses, and that lipstick.

She was always putting on lipstick.

This we remember best.

The spread of the bright red grease.

The smack of the lips on Kleenex

until she approved of the mirror’s presentation.

This was ritual.

And there is one thing more we remember:

Our mother kept her purses in the liquor closet.

That’s just the way it was.

© 2010/Jamie K. Reaser