On flashbacks...

She always turned the morning news on the television as she dressed, listening to the background noise as she applied her make up and did her hair. She'd make a cup of decaf coffee as Joe Cupo delivered the weather report. I'd always wonder what the point of decaf was as I drowned my Cheerios lifesaver by individual lifesaver. I'd push my cat away as she tried to drink the milk leftover in the bowl.

I'd walk by the bathroom to get my backpack for school. There she was, completing the masterpiece. She always made a funny noise as she applied her foundation. She'd rub it in both of her palms and apply it like she was splashing her face with water. It was the rubbing it in that made the sound, since her lips were always parted just slightly as she did it. I can't pinpoint the sound, all I can tell you is it made me think too much about nostrils.

She always.. always.. used rollers. Her undone hair fell flat and limp, but, when done, it emerged so full and the auburn in her hair shone so brightly.

In the winter, she placed her dress shoes in a plastic bag, and put heavy cotton socks over her pantyhose or trouser socks. Her pants or long skirt always seemed to be black. "She needs to wear more color," I'd think, finding her wardrobe of beige, gray and black completely boring. She then slipped her foot into her LL Bean boots, her mucklucks, as she liked to refer to them, before walking out to the icy driveway. The plastic bag awaited her departure by the door.

Scarves, she loved scarves. She wore them prominently.

Black wool coat. Black gloves. Black hat.

I turned the TV on this morning and listened to the weather report as I dressed and did my hair and makeup. I prefer sponges for applying foundation. God that noise was so annoying. But I always.. always.. use rollers to do my hair. Only a curling iron if I'm feeling rebellious. Wow, I have more auburn in my hair that I realized, taking note of the comment a colleague made about the shade yesterday.

I slip on a dark gray sweater. I put my trouser socks on under my black dress pants. "I need to wear more color," I think aloud. My heavy cotton "Maine Lobster" socks make up the next layer. I slip on my black snow boots and place my black ballet flats in a Safeway bag. I place the bag by the door to make for easy grabbing on my way out.

I take the rollers out of my hair; volume emerges. I always look a bit like the housewife of a Texas oil tycoon at first. But my ne'er manicured, bitten fingernails betray that identity full stop.

A scarf. I need a scarf.

I turn off the TV and put on my dark wool coat. Hat. Gloves. On my way.

I walk down the hallway and approach the door to the building. I catch my reflection in the glass.

I see my mom.