My mother’s lipstick

Several months ago, Casey repainted our bedroom–the last of the rooms to receive a fresh coat since he built this house more than a dozen year ago.

We agreed/he surrendered to a faded, earthy shade of rose.

And it’s been my pleasure–a daily dawn & dusk meditation–to notice to subtleties that arise in the changing light–from morning to night–autumn to winter–and now into spring.

Sometimes it’s too peachy or too pink, other times it’s more a creamy-rosy-mocha, like the lipstick my dark-eyed, dark-haired mother used to wear (before she went blonde), or the shade of a top that lent itself beautifully to her equally dark complexion.

Over the year, I’ve lightened the curtains from fawn to sea glass to alabaster in an attempt to better commune with the walls.

It may all be too soft come summer.
Or just right.

The light will tell.

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