Costume

Girl Warrior. Dress the part. Every Girl Warrior should have a costume. Something that is uniquely her. At first blush, it might look just like someone else’s. Don’t be fooled. No two Girl Warriors wear their costumes in the same way. This is your personal power suit. Put it on.

Strut your stuff. Don’t apologize for the cut, color or condition. Walk. Run. Skip to my Lou. Black leather jacket. Frilly blouse. Skinny jeans. Mini skirt. Floor length gown. A sundress blooming with flowers. Floppy hat. Or fascinator. A pinstriped suit. Kick-ass boots. Red stiletto shoes.

It’s not about fashion. It’s about expression. Wearing the inside out. It’s about attitude. Character. Originality. You are a rare bird Girl Warrior. Know this.

So put on your cape. And fly.

Ma and Mel surrounded by a sea of cat pillows.

On Halloween night I was driving home from work when I passed a little girl who was out trick-or-treating with her mom. She was about six years old and dressed as a Princess. She had a wand in one hand and a pumpkin candy bucket in the other. It was just the two of them.

The sight of this little girl brought me back to another little girl, another Halloween night. My daughter Mel was about the same age when she too dressed as a Princess for Halloween. That night, we visited Ma at my sister’s place where she was staying at the time. Ma was on the doorstep of death by then. She was tired but uncomplaining. As sweet as the candy being given.

I took this picture of Mel and Ma on my sister’s white couch surrounded by a sea of cat pillows. It would be Ma’s last Halloween. A few months later it would be her last Christmas. Last New Year’s. Last everything. She would not see another Valentine’s Day. The Old Man’s Sweet Heart would be gone by then.

The vision of that little Princess released a flood of tears. I longed for Ma. And my own little Princess Mel. I longed for all the little girl Halloweens where we walked the rainy streets while she collected her bucket of treats. All gone.

As I drove down the road, the divine and powerful voice of the beautiful Freddy Mercury filled my truck with We Are The Champions. Yes we are Freddy, I thought. Mel, Ma and me.

Forever champions.

My Thing About God

Diaries of The Breadman's Daughter.

Diaries of The Breadman’s Daughter: Dress the Part.

Diaries of The Breadman’s Daughter: We are the Champions.