My mother always taught me to be Beautiful. I can easily finger the back buttons of a dress into an orderly manner without a struggle. I was told to brush my hair 50 strokes on each side every day to keep it healthy. I was lectured repeatedly to mind my manners, chin up, back straight, hands folded, legs crossed, hair done in a do, when we were in company of a family friend or relative. I hardly had any toys growing up. She encouraged reading. So I indulged myself in books and writing. (I believe she did this in part because my dad was always after us to learn sports) I was reminded that education was the most important thing for me and my future and that if I wanted to be anyone I desired, education would lead me there. So the more I poured myself over books. Then she would remind me to not forget to be beautiful. I would be reading a novel in my hand, immensely deep into the other world it presented to me. I would be lounging on my four poster bed, curtains open, with just me and my book. So many times she would walk in with a new product she had bought just to show me and to see if I liked it. They say I am the epitome of my mother.
When I was little, after school, she sent me to cotillion classes. Cheerleading. Then it was the American Conservatory Theater, Young Conservatory, where I remained. I took up assisting instructors and where I was taught by mentors how to make my love of writing and the arts beautiful. My extra curricular activities were first criticized by her before I was allowed to do them. After class, she would pick me up and sometimes we would go window shopping. But window shopping always turned into buying something. I would wait in front of the dressing rooms at Maloufs in Burlingame while she "needed" another designer suit, or The Grocery Store or Susans because she didn't have enough black in her wardrobe for the season. She would find the most amazing pieces of clothing for up to 70% off.
She surrounded me with high end restaurants, black tie fundraisers of San Francisco and the bay area, 4 star hotels, designers with names I had difficulty pronouncing, urged me to travel the world just like she had, to never let my studies falter, and introduced me to cosmetics as a tool used to enhance beauty not something to cover it up.
So today, we found ourselves in the Macy's at Union Square. A must see stop by, Macy's Union Square, San Francisco stands as the 4th largest department store in the world right after Harrods of Europe. The new Chanel line, Aqualumiere Gloss, had just recently launched earlier this month and she had made up her mind to select what she desired from that collection. (as well as anything else that had caught her eye) We played with her shades of pinks and oranges and reds while I beckoned her away from those three and into some peaches or neutrals... which didn't last long before she went back to her favorites. After that. Then it was Barneys. Then it was Saks. Then it would've been Nordstrom before my sister and I attacked her to go back to Macy's so we could have dinner at the Cheesecake Factory.
A regular city spot, of course the night was packed full of mothers. We took a booth next to the window almost automatically putting the menus down, already knowing what to order. My party enjoyed cocktails while I sipped on hot black tea. (I have some studying to do tonight) We talked about the buildings of the city and which ones we haven't gone in in awhile, which ones we've worked in, and whats still around. We exchanged what was going on in our lives, encouraging and teasing one another. My mother conversed with us in Tagalog in the way only her class can do. It doesn't sound broken or choppy or ugly. When she talks in the language, it sounds exquisite, a dialect where I can see it is known as a romance language. Talking with her hands and over exaggerrating a story, she takes advantage of the days when the attention is on her. That beautiful language rolling off her tongue, yearning for me to learn my culture's native way of words. We ended the night with one slice of cheesecake between the 5 of us, being too full to order even 2. And of course, with a cup of the Cheesecake Factory Coffee.
I rode back home with my mother and daddy while Micheal Buble played into our ears. Everything positive about me is the effect in some way of my mother. My mentality to be independent, my stubbornness to never settle for less, and my hard driven skill that leads to aggressiveness, I believe comes from her lessons in some way. I was raised to be a lady. Not to just act like a lady. I know my fashion sense, because yes, I was raised to believe that appearance is important. I know to never stop learning. In this time, I read my books usually cuddled against the side of a couch, with a long sweatshirt on, coffee in hand, hair brushed 50 times on each side, and legs crossed sideways while I lounge. She still comes in and shows me her new material things or what she heard today, and I listen and enjoy the company for a bit before she starts pushing me to get back to studying. I am molded into what I am, because of that woman. She's raised me to be beautiful. In all the love and sacrifice shes given, she's raised me beautifully.
Happy mothers day, Mommy.
2 comments:
can you please write a book...you should!
awe, what a sweet mothers day! we didn't even get to celebrate w/my mom, they left for cache creek while i went to church by myself.
and i totally agree w/sister mel, you should totally write a book. you put our blogs to shame! LOL. no wonder i was good at math, you took all the english skills! LOL.
love you cousin.
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