The perfume my mother doesn’t wear smells divine–I remember sneaking into her closet just to smell, asking to borrow it as often as I dared.
The wedding band my grandmother wore is so small it only fits on my pinky, and barely–I remember waking up with those leathery hands, with such small, careful fingers. We’d wake up together in the middle of the night, when she’d forgotten how old she was and that she had already lotioned her face three times.
The drop pearl earrings my mom has had for ages still get worn, and I still love to watch her put on her makeup. It’s magical to watch the women in my life, teaching me about womanhood in perfume and diamond rings just as well as bug catching and imagining. I’m grateful their stories can be told in lockets and dreaming and reading all in the same breath.
“The most courageous act is still to think for yourself. Aloud.” -Coco Chanel