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Happy Mother’s Day from us to you.

Nothing has to be perfect for me to use it, wear it, enjoy it!

Cindy Marshall, retired antique jewelry dealer and my mother.

Although I didn’t always understand or agree with Mom’s philosophy there were times when it came in handy.

Once, when I was around five years old, early on a Saturday morning I was awake before everyone else and hanging around in the living room. I recall getting bored and looking around I spotted a bottle of liquid shoe polish sitting on the coffee table. Suddenly, artistic inspiration overcame me and I grabbed the bottle and swiped the brush of black goo back and forth on a small portion of a large Art Nouveau style poster hanging on the wall, thinking at first that no one would notice. Then I stood back to admire my abstract brush strokes … Oh no! It’s kind noticeable. I tried to wipe off the polish but it was already dry. Quickly, I put the bottle back on the table and ran out of the living room and down the hall to the kitchen, far away from the scene of the crime.

Lucky for me, Mom didn’t look at the poster that day. I don’t know when she might have noticed it, but she never said a word. No one did. Maybe I was right thinking no one would noticed or they thought it was always a part of the poster.

Many years later after I had grown up and the poster had survived a few moves, I was looking at it, again up on the wall, and asked Mom about the black stroke marks. “Did you know I did that?” I asked.

“Of course … well, I don’t think I realized right away but I figured it out.”

“Why didn’t you say anything? How come I didn’t get in trouble?”

Mom laughed. “It didn’t matter and I kind of liked your added artwork.”

I’ve come to appreciate imperfections – holes in a sweater, a crack in a tea cup, a crooked stitch on something hand-sewn, swipes of black shoe polish on a poster. The imperfections can make things more interesting. They certainly are a reflection of real life.

Happy Mother’s Day, Mom. Thanks for the gift of imperfections.

 

 

 

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