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Sparkle (8)
It is a well known fact that my mother has always dressed and accessorized in style; more like dressed to kill the competition, no matter what her age. Even now, aged 77, her grandkids and great-grandkids refer to her as “Gramita (or Grandma) the cool dresser.” She is bejeweled and appropriately colorful, with added rouge to her once-high cheekbones and lipstick to still plump lips.
When she was a young woman living in San Salvador, El Salvador, early-enough to wear sexy 3-inch spike heels, she knew how to catch a man’s eye. And boy did she ever!
She carried her head and chin high and smiled her practiced coy smile, without ever parting her full lips. She even sashayed with pretention as she batted her eyes to approaching masculinity, but never, ever, planned to direct a single word of friendliness. She saved her Siren’s breath only for the worthy, those most willing to make fools of themselves. She gave everything but offered nothing; she was a lady, after all. But she left them hungry with desire.
To her window they came to serenade, with poems and with songs, and even once or twice were drenched with water by her ever watchful mother. Those poor, poor lads!
She was like a tigress on the prowl, but her hunger was sated just from knowing she was admired and desired. Even now that she is a Senior Citizen other women will envy her striking good looks. And even now she hides her age well-enough that she makes a game at keeping them guessing. Oh, how I wish I could have been like her, or even carry myself like her now; to have that kind of poise and self-assured confidence. Oh, how I wish….
