A last stroke of makeup brush swept ever so lightly across her fair cheeks to blend in her dull pink blush and she was ready as she assessed her overall facial makeup in her tiny oval mirror attached to her makeup block powder case to ensure it was perfect,
"How do I look son?"
She asked me, turning to look at me, I smiled and spurted out "Flawless" as I thought she was the strongest woman I know. Here she is, in a ramshackle of a house, in a room lacking her usual giant mirror and well placed lighting yet not letting her present situation dampen her soul, she still applies makeup and in lieu of her giant mirror, improvised by using a tiny powder case mirror, still looking high in spirit and ready to go, it made me be in awe of her as in a millisecond, memories of the many times she's shown incredible strength flashed across my eyes, from moments as a young child when Dad died and she was put in the midst of her sisters-in-law, her hair disheveled and was emotionally and psychologically tortured yet stood her ground and proclaimed her innocence to raising three boys on her own, enrolling back in school with the determination to change her story and make a success of her life, oh! How I remember the struggle or the memories of us eating low quality meals yet coming out with toothpicks in our mouth acting like we've just had a bountifully delicious meal just as I remember her late night cries when she thinks we were all asleep so we won't see her breakdown and how shocked she was as she shivered upon my hands resting on her shoulders to comfort her..I could go on and on.
