This is my Mom, Betty. I love my Mom but I don’t always like her. She and I don’t really jive as far as our common interests. In that respect, I must have some of her, because we are who we are and there ain’t much going to change any of it. I possess many of her better qualities and all her worst, plus many more.

Of  course, I was the least favorite of her children. Robert Andrew was the little girl she never had and James Parker was the baby. Rob had the charisma and Jamie the personality, for 32 long years now though, I have been her only. I have always feared that losing a child is one of the worst things that can be visited upon another. She lost two in the shortest of spans.

She doesn’t watch any TV to speak of. The internet? Forget it. To her a smart phone is the push button ones that replaced the round dialers. Her mind at 84 is void of the clutter that crowds ours and it can take you to a time, distant now in her past, with absolute certainty and clarity. She still lives there I believe and I have often wondered how much of her living in those times is attributable to the boys, and how much can be owed to the happiness of the times. Me, I believe it is part of both.

For the past several months she has been bed ridden. With her admittance to the hospital once again, I fully believe if the daggone doctors will put her in a rehab under the care of a Nurse Ratched, she will walk again and have several productive years remaining, giving her ample time to finish the book she is writing, the content of which covers the years before she decided to remain.

The point of this tonight is about having a voice. You see, though I love my mom dearly, we share only the span of time: 60 of 84 years. Our closeness when I stay with her is compounded by a distance. Over these past few months, I have been fortunate to have some of the best folks you could know to act as a voice between us; To bridge the distance between mom and me. Tina Whitten, Wanda Stewart Calhoun and Sue English (who is still mad at me because she lost a $ 10 bet), have helped to be the translators that are required. They have seen her best and her worst and mine as well. But through it all, in addition to providing exceptional care, they have helped to close an unsurmountable distance to an at times manageable one. I owe them a great deal.

Tonight, in visiting Mom, I learned that Sarah had stopped by. I had no idea why; They have met but once I believe, maybe twice. A few hours later, I found out why. The story posted below. Though surprised as hell by her visit, I am more so by the way she was so able to capture a perfect snapshot of my mother. I had remarked in a previous post how Sarah Jane Goble and Charly Wise were providing, through Appalachian Hospice, what I believe to be the most caring of gestures: Providing attention and a permanent voice for these whose remaining time is measured in the shortest of spans. This is in the same spirit.

Sarah became one of those voices for me tonight. She has assured, that when mom has a chance to read this story, that the queens tiara will shine bright once again. Most likely brighter than it his shined in a very long time. Her actions touched me deeply; Her words even more. It was of the simplest of gestures but one of the absolute sweetest. That is pretty damn awesome in this day and age. Thank You Sarah! I would be willing to wager that the Belle of the Ball will be soon running low on the ruby red.

The original story is posted below as is a link to the story on Sarah’s Blog. If I were you I would follow the link and check out some of her other writings. It is always good to be given a smile

( https://sarahjaneonline.com/2018/…/30/the-belle-of-the-ball/ )

“The Belle of the Ball” by Sarah Jane Goble

The first thing that caught my eye as I approached her was that tube of lipstick; she had it lying beside her on the bed. It wasn’t in her purse, nor was it in a makeup bag, but lying right beside her within easy reach. That fact gave me the impression it was of the utmost importance. She seemed happy to see me and the conversation flowed easily between us as we talked of our plans. During our conversation someone came into the room to change her bed, she requested I move her purse and place in upon the chair next to her, and as I was doing this, she grabbed that tube of lipstick and requested it be placed right beside her purse, so she wouldn’t lose it she said. While they were completing their task, I stepped out into the hall to wait. As I was waiting I thought about that lipstick and its significance. I finally concluded that that tube of lipstick served as a reminder of her younger years and when she applied that tint of color to her lips it transformed her into that beauty queen once again.

She was the “Belle of the Ball” back in the day with her chestnut hair always coiffed in the latest style, big round eyes the color of jade that were trimmed with full dark lashes, and a set of beautiful pouting lips. She was always styled in the latest fashion and I’m sure she was the envy of many a woman and the secret desire of quite a few men. I have no doubt when she walked into a room people couldn’t help but take notice of her beauty and would sit at attention when she spoke. Her beauty spoke for itself, but her achievements are documented throughout the local history and can still be seen to this day. She was instrumental in so many advancements to the city in which she lives and one can’t help but hear the pride in her voice every time she speaks of it. Those days are past now, but she relives them in her mind and speaks of them when I visit.

Those days may be gone now, but there’s a city that is still reaping the benefits of her hard work from years gone by. She was Chairman of the Prestonsburg Junior Woman’s Club, heading up projects that brought progress to a town she loves dearly. I think she relives them as often as she can for they serve as a reminder of a time and a place she was the “Belle of the Ball”, and I think that tube of lipstick, when applied, aids in taking her back.

After coming to that realization, I walked back into that room and I no longer saw her as I did when I first got there, I saw her as she was; I saw a beauty queen lying upon that bed with hair coiffed in the latest style; big round jade eyes that were trimmed with full dark lashes; and a set of beautiful pouting lips that held just a hint of the color I’m certain was contained in that tube she had lying next to her.

That tube of lipstick serves a very important purpose after all; when applied, it reminds her who she truly is: “The Belle of the Ball”