There I was, standing in front of the mirror. I was preparing to go out for dinner. I had my entire outfit picked out, down to the accessories. Hubby of course was ready to go anytime!
Then problem arose - I could not find my clutch bags - the black one, which was with my white one, and which was together with my cream one.
That cream one. It's special. Because it’s from Mom.
As a little girl, I would watch her get ready for dinner and I would wait not-so-patiently for the moment when she brought this special bag out. How I loved this bag. It came along with wisps of perfume caressing the nostrils, with makeup and special softness which enhanced a glow on Mom's face for the evening. I would wait for that chance when she would pass me the bag to "take care for her". Then I would gently, almost revererently, finger the beads, caress the workmanship, and admire the entire craftsmanship. Those were special moments.
It was a truly special moment when on one visit home my Mom handed this symbol-of-many-delightful-memories to me and told me it was mine. It's faded. A number of beads are missing. The faded cloth is showing in parts. But it was mine. As was all the memories. I am so, so thankful, even to today.
Yes, I found my bags, all three of them.
But the other two will never be as special as this one….