Costume jewelry of Constance of Austria. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
Saturday night. All were out having fun, parties, shopping, dining out, visiting friends. She was home. Her and her thoughts. She went into the empty room and walked over to the bed and laid down, hugging the pillow around her. Smelling the all familiar scent. She stood up and walked over to the closet. Opening it up quietly, like someone would hear her,she stepped inside, and ran her fingers through each piece of clothing, feeling the softness, and remembering the last time she had seen it worn. She took a particular dress off the hanger and walked over and gently laid it on the bed. She strolled over to the dresser, and carefully picked up the box and carried it over to the bed and laid it beside the dress. She slipped off her shirt and jeans and let the dress roll over her body until it rolled no more. She ran her hands down the front, stopping to play with one of the rhinestone buttons. She turned and looked at herself in the mirror, turning more, so she could see the back of the dress. It fit her perfectly. Every place that should be filled out, was. She slipped the belt through the loops and buckled it. She twirled around and around, the bottom of the dress swaying away from her. Standing in front of the mirror, she decided that in order to make a perfect picture, she needed the box. She went over to it, and gently lifted the corners. Catches from the light brought hundreds of twinkles. She touched one by one, picking a piece up and holding it against her dress until she found it. She picked it up, holding it to her chest, a tear formed in her eye. She carefully pinned the brooch on her dress. She bent down reading the labels, taking off lids, smelling each scent. She picked her favorite one. Sweet timeless. She sprayed some behind her ears and on her wrist. She felt her cheeks get hot, and as she touched her face, she could feel wetness from the fresh tears that were falling. She stood for minutes, looking at her reflection in the mirror, it bounced an image back at her, of a memory fresh in her mind. She glanced at the clock on the wall, and was surprised at how long she had been in here. She carefully took the brooch off, put it back in the velvet box. Slipping the dress over head, she walked over to the empty hanger and placed it in its rightful spot. She slipped her own clothes back on, straightened the bed coverlets, and walked out as quietly as she had walked in with a quiet shadow following her. Good night mama. I miss you.
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