UNDER THE PINK LAMPSHADE
Years ago, my mother re-covered a vintage lampshade on which the original silk had perished. She replaced it with fabric left over from one of the bridesmaids' dresses she sewed in those days to earn money, and decorated it with the same handmade roses she pinned to their shoulders and hems.
I always loved the lampshade for its soft pink light, and because it was somehow symbolic of my mother's frugality, and of her ability to conjure something lovely out of whatever materials she had to hand. Now that the pink shade has passed to me, its dreamy light is conducive to scribbling stray thoughts that may have nothing to do with writing. You'll find them gathered here.