| According to her height and weight she should be a guard for the rich. She has iron-willed blood, one shoulder is lower than the other, and she bites her fingernails. But she is the most beautiful woman I have ever seen. She should be. She has worked on that body and face for more than sixty years. The course for that kind of beauty can't be rushed. The lines in her face have been earned one at a time. The thick one around the lips became deeper with every pain and hurt. The thin ones on the forehead appeared when the first child was born. The eyes are protected by glasses now, but still full of life. These are eyes that have shone with pride, filled with tears of bitterness, stared in anger and burned from lack of sleep. There are now direct and sharp and look at you when you speak. The double chin took years to grow. Sometimes you can only see it from the side but it is there. Modern women don't have a double chin. They beat it away or pat the fat until it becomes firm. But her chin is always there. It supports a nodding head that has slept in a chair all night or bent over pressing clothes. The bent back developed slowly. She had carried home her babies who were too sleepy to walk, heavy bags from the car, rubbish out of the house while her husband was at war. The legs are still in shape, but the step is slow. They ran too often for the bus. They stood a little too long when she worked in the department store. They got beat up while teaching her daughter to ride a two-wheeler. They are dark red at the back of the knees. The hands? There are small but able. They are rough, because they did washing, cooking, and sewing for the family and cleaning for the department stores all the year round. I looked at Mother long and hard the other day and said," Mom, I have |
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