It was the purses
and maybe because I never got to see her things....
or know the name of the last lipstick she used
or pick up the hairbrush from the oval tray in her bedroom
and brush my hair with the combs of life left from mama
perhaps it was the lingering smell of giggly laughs
we tossed about
on summer days of shopping
'round the thrift markets
the way she would fight
for what she wanted
and laugh
when she got
what
she
wanted
in the market today
on the face of the painting
she would have loved
so I fought
and I bought
it
thinking it was for me
when it really was for her
"I know that box," she would have said.
"Pick it up, my girl, and we will take it home to our treasure pile." 
Oh, how she would have loved the Lillian Vernon pink. And the lining. And the way it fell from her slender shoulders, prancing around in the store of trinkets like a Queen sitting high on the Nile with no one to judge and no one to care. I picked it up three times and felt the silk way down on the inside before I put it in my basket. There was something about the way my hands knew the cloth. Inside the deep well of the purse I felt my mother's hands..only realizing later that's why I kept picking it up and putting it down...so much like our complicated way with each other
so I bought it
thinking all along it was mine; when all along, I knew it was hers. Always hers.
She loved purses
and priss
and me
"Isn't that print just the finest? she'd say. "I know just where I'll put it and it matches the roses in my garden. The ones on the bush you gave me for Mother's Day that's grown so tall and full of you, my girl. I think of you and pray for you when I see them bloom," she'd say.
for me
And I gave it
to her
And no one would believe - not even I - that she had shopped with me today
Until some time later
in the evening
when I needed her in a moment of pain
for no reason I can logically explain
and she came
into my room
carrying
this perfumed
purse
and all the exquisite days with her
came flooding back with her presence
and it no longer mattered what lipsticks
she left behind
and suddenly I remembered
a kiss
placed on my lips
by my mother
on the day I was born
It was the shade she wore
and
I
will
always
always
wear
it
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Meanwhile, other-little-brother (his best friend) is working on tending to homegrown tomatoes and veggies in the garden they planted together. When they're not watching a Braves game or strumming guitars, they're turning over dirt waiting for miracles to sprout.
