Ode to Pink

Written by: julie heckman

My Mother

Barely breathing I looked for her
throughout each house, like a rabid 
dog in a cage. I found her on the 
sofa in front of the TV, learning 
quickly she was always there at
3pm for her program.

I remember the bliss of lying in bed 
with her in the evenings until father
put an end to it. Mother had beautiful 
olive skin and a sculpted Roman nose. 
She used Clairol for as long as I
remember,  looking like Venus or 
the headline photo of Vogue.
I remember the day she came back 
from the doctors...it was breast cancer, 
she was only in her mid forties. I was
barely an adult when I went with
her to surgery. She needed me to go.
It was only four years later that 
she was diagnosed with cancer
in her other breast. This one was
removed also.

I worshiped my mothers kindness
and her neatness in the kitchen and 
her smokey brown eyes. Sometimes
I thought she was psychic but this 
fantasy never really came true. Her
life just disappeared quickly like 
bits of broken glass.

Julie Heckman