Today is not a particularly good day; the week has started, and I am alone in the house. I was not woken up, as I had been for years, by Shelby barking (see Saying goodbye to a friend). I did not have to take her outside, or feed her. Today is not a particularly good day, which is why I was fond of the Weekly Writing Challenge this morning.
Find a photo of someone that is truly happy? Then tell it’s story? A good distraction from the otherwise somber mood in my heart.
Lacey and I were very best friends, coming from two vastly different backgrounds, but coming together as equals. Lacey had a big house, lots of toys, nice clothes. Her mom wanted her to stay clean, prim and proper. I lived in a tiny apartment with 4 other people, got by with the toys I had, and wore Goodwill clothes. My mom encouraged me to get in the mud and get dirty. She was rich, and I was poor … something that sometimes tears people apart, even at that young age. But Lacey and I saw past all of that; we were just two mischievous girls that wanted to jump on the giant trampoline together until we reached the stars, and so we became blood sisters underneath the summer sun.
One August day, exhausted by the beaming summer heat, Lacey and I wandered into my home to find some trouble to get into. We found it in my mother’s makeup bag. The pink lipstick looked so incredible, we decided that we needed to paint our entire faces with it. The giggles we shared while doing up each others faces is one of the fondest memories I have; we honestly believed that we were painting pieces of art, and that my mom would be genuinely proud when she saw our masterpieces. By the time we were finished, what was once a fresh new roll of my mom’s lipstick, was now a mushed up quarter inch ball of mess. We crept out of the bathroom, hand in hand, so proud of our accomplishment. My little brother saw us first, he rolled up into a ball on the floor and laughed and laughed. Then, we found my mom in the kitchen. “Mom! Look at us!”
My mother did not get angry, she did not chastise us for ruining the lipstick she could barely afford. Instead, she laughed and tickled us, then made us pose for a picture. It was a moment of childhood perfection; being praised for your quirky creativity, instead of being shut down. The only serious thing my mother said was, “Let’s make sure we clean that up before she goes home to her mom.” I had a feeling, even though I didn’t understand it, that Lacey’s mom wouldn’t take it as well as mine did.
A perfect moment; a happy moment. Two little girls, frolicking in one of those infinite childhood summer’s. That picture is happiness.