Nana

When I was 14, she was 66....
Blonde banana curls cascading down her back , dread locked ahead of her time. Skinny little legs and Blue Mascara. Patent leather pocket book exactly the color of The Yellow Submarine. My Nana. Skinny's Nana. Kimbies Nana. She was wild.

She laughed with no reserve, head tilted back, guzzling the wine of stolen moments from a long fluted glass.
She danced with the abandon of a Ballerina in red slippers, with the wind up wings of a Go-Go dancer, with the free spirit of a magpie faerie.
She told stories in a whispered language only those in cahoots would ever understand or remember in the morning.

She was tickled pink when women burned their bras, but believed in keeping the sexiest ones, the ones in ice cream colors and wicked lace, for the night time....
She rubbed elbows with everyone....catching their magic, and savoring it....
She Loved scary movies, patent leather boots, mini skirts, red lipstick, smokey bars, storytellers, rock and roll, Liberace, romance novels, and her handsome hubby....
She was wild....

She taught us secrets we'll pass on to our daughters and nieces....

I felt her,
heard her,
hugged her...
on Saturday night.....

And I know when she peeked down,
eyes sparkling,
head thrown back ready to laugh,
she was thrilled.

You taught me well, Nana.
I wore fishnets with the combat boots.....

One door closes....

And another door opens....

It's been six months since I went splat in the middle of a Mick Jagger routine and broke the hell out of my foot. Six months and five pounds ago actually. Six months and a lifetime ago.

I have a new bike with a flat tire now. A new grand~baby on the way. A new pair of boots just the right size, just the right height to hide the damn brace and dance like it never happened....

"You have keys in your door" he smiled as he left.

"Of course" I whispered to the night.

Your Mama wears Combat Boots....

These are the ones. I had to decide between construction boots and the spanish formal or combat boots and the little black dress. The little black dress won. My date, whom by the way I asked out, for New Years Eve, is one of my dearest friends. Charming, conservative, intelligent and 23 years my senior, he'll be wearing impecable taste and a smile.

Jonah, my eldest and youngest, and only son, stopped by this afternoon...We played catch-me-up on the porch, me stringing love beads and he, checking voice mails and text messages one right after the other. Claiming too little sleep and a too bright sun, he lumbered through the house collecting hand me down towels, a bar of soap, and a frozen pizza..... pausing on his way to thumb through the Halloween pictures piled on the microwave. "Ya had fun, didn't ya Mom?" "Yeah, son we did, we really did...." "Ya goin' out for New Year's again?" "Oh yeah, wait, I'll show you my boots......"

His hollywood chin tipped to the left. One eyebrow raised just a hair. "You're doin' it again, Ma....." smile "People are gonna talk".... full grin now. "I know, son, but I have a broken foot....I can't help it, and I wanna dance" "They're gonna talk....."...... huge grin now.

"Love ya, Ma"....words tossed over his shoulder as he clanked through the screen door, and down the drive way....

And now it's my turn to smile.