Let them forever be enshrined here.
With the doors and windows closed, my bedroom takes on a
musty, trapped smell that is created by a combination of the long, late morning
slumbers of two people deeply breathing in a small space with no air flow, and
an animal with free reign of the bedroom.
The layout of the room is such that upon entering, the eye is naturally
drawn to the well-used vanity standing next to the south window. The vanity is
littered with perfume bottles both empty and full, cups of makeup brushes,
wooden boxes from far-away places I have never been to, jewelry draped haphazardly
over the mirror and its wooden supports, as well as earring cardboards and a
plethora of pictures stuffed in the small slit between the mirrored-glass and
the wood encasing it. A fine dust of
translucent, powdered makeup can be observed covering the length of the table
and its occupants.
Further
investigation of the cluttered scene uncovers an intruder among the perfume
bottles-a tall, upright, unashamed bottle of Cholula hot sauce, complete with a
wooden stopper. Its label is bright and
cheery, yellow and red with an attractive Latina woman smiling up at her audience. The contents of the bottle nearly reach the
top, and there are no telltale signs of usage, no streaks of hot sauce running
down the inside of the glass, back to the waiting and welcoming hot sauce pool
gravity has drawn together. The bottle,
clearly not perfume, has been waiting patiently for its owner (myself) to
reunite it with its hot sauce companions down in the kitchen cabinet for quite
some time now, but until I do, the tolerant bottle must wait.
Sitting
atop the wooden mirror, a tiny, rotund, red, also-wooden Buddha carefully
reigns over the bedroom. He is easily
recognized as jovial by the wide, open-mouthed grin splitting his face,
although at his size the viewer may have to squint to fully appreciate his
joy. Although not often noticed by many,
his good fortune continues to bless those that dwell in his presence.
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