poem submitted to "Reflection(s) on Childhood Day(s), Sara Kendrick, sponsor, 9/17/2026
Lavender clung to Grammy like a familiar blessing, a soft aura rising from her walk-in closet~ that kingdom of faux furs and pearlized buttons where dresses hung like quiet stories waiting to be told. I sat beside her at her dressing table, watching the slow choreography of her bronze-brown hair as she brushed it into its practiced sweep, each stroke a reminder of the elegance she carried long after her hand-model days had faded from magazines. She tore two sheets of paper poudre, handing one to me as if passing down a secret rite. “Gently,” she said, and I followed her movements, feeling the powder lift whatever childhood dust remained from my ten-year-old cheeks, leaving them soft, matte, new. Foundation, rouge, a whisper of plum on her lips~ then her porcelain hands folded mine inside them, their warmth steady, their touch feather light. “You’re a lady now,” she said; in that moment, I believed her~ believed I was becoming her lady-in-waiting, one beautiful enough to be part of her gracious royalty.
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