Some third person writing…
“My mother had a hard time of life, caught between what she felt somedays and what she felt others and then of course the bruises the world leaves on a person. She needed daily reminders of magic, beauty and hope. So she painted them on the walls, tattooed them on her body, carried them in her name. Each a specific reminder of a specific bit of magic. A little bandage over a deep wounded soul. She had a tattoo on her left wrist that said “Achelois” which is a Greek moon goddess the people prayed to for easing of their pain. To remind her that pain can be eased. She had a bird in cherry blossoms on her left bicep to remember that freedom, beauty, and simplicity are right in front of us everyday in nature. The tattoos on her right bicep were a quill and ink well, music notes and a Walter Scott poem that read “in the Bonnie cells of bedlam ere I was one and twenty, with hempen bracelets strong and merry whips ding dong and prayer and fasting plenty” with the Roman numeral for 5,000. The poem and roman numeral are to remember those that were forgotten in mental institutions in the early 1900s and throughout the centuries. Those that no one loved, those that were left and forgotten, she is saying, I love you, I found you and I remember you. The inkwell and quill and music notes are a reminder that words and music can bring so much healing and they made up such a vital part of her. I recall her telling me, “It’s me saying to myself, ‘always remember you love to write and never forget what it’s done for you. ” She even changed her middle name from Caitlin to Percalaine, because of a movie quote that she needed to hold in her heart. It was from the movie A Long Song for Bobby Long. The main character was a girl who had been left with her grandmother by her mother. Her name was Purslane humminy will and on her mother’s passing she returns to New Orleans to go to her funeral. She meets a neighbor and she tells him her name and he replies “Your mama thought you were golden so we named you after yellow flowers and corn. This is you here…pretty, golden purslane.” She quickly responds, “Purslane’s really a weed, you know. A neighbor told me when I was 9 and I ran over his tomato plants. He said all gardeners hate purslane.”
” Yeah, and dandelions. Doesn’t stop kids from making wishes on ’em.”
My mother had always felt broken so she chose a name to remember other people counting you out means nothing. Weeds are the flowers small children love best and the ones that contain the magic. She changed the spelling so she could own it completely. She was also stubborn and fiercely independent, so on her right shoulder blade she had cowboy boots and a cowboy hat. Turn your pain into something beautiful and you make the world a little less painful.”
Love. Love. Love.