My Mother was a beauty. She had the thickest, blackest hair I've ever seen. My Grandmother's side of the family had some Creek blood in them and my Mother got her fair share of it- the hair, the olive skin, the cheek bones. My Dad loved her hair and her lips and her legs and her breasts. He never kept it to himself - his love for her.
I remember when she started to go into the bathroom and stay for what seemed like hours on weekends. I could hear water running and I could hear her crying. At first, I didn't know what was wrong but when I discovered hair color and gloves in the trash, I realized she'd begun to grey.
I've fallen in and out of love with my Mother many times in my life. Some of those times overshadow others. Still, her dark beauty lives on...
Happy Mother's Day to you...
