Kudos To The Queen

No, I'm not talking about the Queen of England, or the queen of any other country for that matter. I am referring to the "queen" of the Davie St. White Spot in Vancouver, who truly looked the part - although the tenor voice asking me if I wanted my fries extra crispy did not fool me.
In a short but fun conversation, we discussed the power and beauty of the goddess I wear around my neck and the moonstone that she holds up in her capable hands.
"I'm not even a witch, but I noticed your necklace right away!" she laughed.
"Well, I think there's a little witch in all of us, don't you?" I replied, and if I could wink I would have done so in a conspiratory way.
What I'd like to recognize is the pride with which the queen expressed her femininity - sleek, black hair adorned in white flowers...really, can you get more girly than that? In my quest to notice and recognize the strength in all things feminine, this one jumped right out at me.
It's amazing what can happen when you decide to step out of your bubble on a random Monday evening.

I Look Forward to Getting to Know You Better

I am looking through old photographs and catch a glimpse of a vaguely familiar woman. She is in her mid-twenties with a willowy figure, curves in all the right places. Soft, dark curls frame achingly high cheekbones. In some of the pictures her brown eyes are played up by shades of blue. From one shot to the next her look changes. In front of a backdrop of flower leys, she wears a white and gold saree and leans in to the arms of her new groom. In a cottage garden, she wears a modest housecoat and a playful smile. Behind a table displaying remnants of a birthday feast, she is dressed in pink and, I laugh when I realize, she is flirting with the camera! But the one I will frame is a head shot, those pretty eyes shaded by large, round sunglasses while a floppy sunhat adds mystery and elegance. And on those full pink lips rest the unspoken words she would share with me. Words of love, warning, prayer, reprimand and humour.
I wish I knew this woman better. She seems to know something about walking barefoot in saltwater. Her pride in her appearance is apparent and well-earned. I see how delicate she is inside, though. Her eyes beseech the world, "Love me, please..." And now I know why she is only vaguely familiar. I just wish when she was trying to come out and play, that I noticed, understood and encouraged her.
I didn't know that I could do that with my mother.
Four days before she passed away, I looked into her sunken and tired eyes and said, "You are so beautiful." She smiled and said, "Thank you. So are you. We are the same." At that moment, I was no longer a child, but a woman looking at another woman, and acknowledging the femininity in both of us, for the first time.
The photographs confirm what I know to be true: Being a woman is sacred, expressing that femininity is vital and in our uniqueness we are equal.
We are the same.