Picture day

                       by  diedre Knight

An uneven line of blinding light blazed through a gap in mother’s heavy drapes.  I stood for a time in her room, enraptured by the scent of her perfume.  On her dresser was a dazzling assortment of makeup tubes and cases.  She was beautiful; I thought as I gazed at my four-year-old self in the mirror. I would be, too, I decided as butterflies fluttered in my stomach.