I rummage through the makeup bag and find the orange red lipstick. Not tangerine, not melon, orange red. Carefully I outline lips that seem unfamiliar then fill in the rest. These lips once smiled and laughed, but no more, not for me.

Digging down deeper I find the mascara. A nice deep black color. The kind that clumps, the kind that takes turpentine practically to remove. Never once did that mascara run, even through a lifetime of joyful laughter bringing you to tears, or intense grief that leaves you gasping agonizingly for breath.

I tip the bag back and forth until I see the small black square plastic box. Pulling out the worn case containing a frayed brush I sweep it upwards, creating a stark contrast of the reddish brown powder onto white skin. "Where did all the wrinkles come from," I ask myself. I can't remember when I first noticed the age beginning to show, but they're there, a testament to time.

A breeze blows in through the window kissing my cheek and I breathe in the scent of spring. It brings back memories of my childhood. I remember a day with perfect clarity, of me, my sister and mother sitting on the porch swing. I remember my mother laughing at a silly song my sister and I had made up, clapping at the end and hugging us tightly. That day was perfect to me. I feel as if I've had far to few of those days. The sun was warm with a tranquil breeze, that carried the scent of my mothers perfume as I snuggled against her.

Remembering that I still have much to do today I push the memory aside and reach for the hairbrush. I can't help but notice the streaks of gray and white, again times testament. It used to be brown and so soft to touch, but now it feels course and brittle. I arrange it as best I can trying to frame the face. There are a few wisps that refuse to do what the brush bids them. I try to smooth them down my fingers lingering remembering how I used to like the way it curled.

I look at my handiwork and adjust the dress. It is blue, my favorite color. I had spent an hour agonizing over the choice. Laying out several dresses on the bed, I narrowed it down to two, the blue or a black. The black in the end just didn't seem right. I feel the breeze tickling my skin teasing me to go outside and enjoy the sunshine. I'm tempted, my mother always said to enjoy your days while you can. I don't think I'll ever enjoy anything anymore.

Somehow something is missing and I search my mind for what it can be. Again the breeze filters in through the open window and like a siren tempts me to run outside and forget my duties here. Mentally refusing the invitation I search through the bag, hoping something will stand out showing me what I have forgotten.

My fingers touch the cool feel of glass and I pull out the bottle that has been resting on the bottom. Uncapping the filigree gold top I inhale the fragrance. Chanel, only for special occasions. I tip the bottle and add just a dab to both wrists and another on each side of the neck. Tears blur my vision as the smell brings up a flood of memories. Memories I had pushed deep down when I promised myself I would get through this day. This awful horrible day!

Angrily I wipe my eyes with the back of my hand and look down at the casket. My mothers face looks peaceful. I have done what she had wanted. I remembered the hospital room sitting next to my mother trying to sound like everything would be fine. But she knew better. "Promise me Alice that when I'm gone you'll take care of the way I look," she asked. She looked tired. The cancer had eaten all the vitality my mother had always seemed to have away. "I remember your Aunt Margaret's funeral and how they made her look like a clown, not like her at all." I could only nod that I would, too choked up with the possibility of losing her to speak. And now I had fulfilled my promise, my mother looked nice.

Once again the breeze ruffles the curtains brushing over me giving me the notion that it is my mothers touch. She is thanking me. Her kiss is cool when the air touches the tears on my cheeks. I bend over and kiss my mother for the last time, and walk outside to feel the spring sun and enjoy the tranquil breeze for awhile.

The End