Sparkle

Maude lived in the grand house fourth from the corner. Even the children in this society circle have to be dressed in the height of fashion. Maude was no different. She admired her pinafore and scalloped edge on her pantaloons. She sat daintily, hands folded the entire way from downtown to their home on 5th Avenue. She mimicked mama in allowing the footmen to assist her out of their carriage. She stopped long enough to tip her head all the way back, lips parted ever so slightly, to watch the window washers hoist themselves up to the roof at the end of their day’s work. A plan began to formulate. Instead of playing Hide and Won’t Seek, Maude would play Colors with mama’s pretty bottles.

Maude lined the bottles up all in a row, taking time to push one, then the next, into the summer sunlight streaming through the second-story balcony doors. Mama would not mind. The colors sparkled in brilliant disarray as they danced across the surfaces in Mama’s bedroom. Maude’s little mouth dropped in wonder, watching the movements as she spun the bottles in rapid succession, watching how the colors played off the cuts and reflected off shiny surfaces.

Maude tried to be as careful as mama when handling the crystal cut glass, and admiring the different stained glass on the bottles. Maude would have to be very cautious not to let the amber solutions spill. But curiosity possessed a mighty pull. She wrinkled her pixie nose, spinning her head away as she held the glass at arm’s length dropping the offensive odor to splatter across the parquetted floor. That’s when her eye caught the cut glass that her mama used to stub out her cigarettes. Maude cradled the glass in her pudgy fingers and brought it down to the staging area. It did not take long to have the stoppers off the bottles and the stinky liquids poured in the glass bowl. The waters swirled together pulling the ash from the sides and bottom of the bowl. It was better letting the essences intermix, each leaving either a floral, or musky or pungent note wafting through the air.

Maude smiled in satisfaction. She set the bottle tops to a stunning pattern, checking the flickering pattern on the ceiling and high walls. Then piling one empty bottle atop the next, she would admire her work again. She would move to and fro, side to side, every which way imaginable. She took quite the tumble when trying to review her work upside down. The people from the circus made it look easy, but Maude just had a sore bottom for her efforts.

But time for a five-year-old is fluid. She put the tops back on the bottles and tried to pour the solution back in the last bottle, but stopped when the patterns of the cigarette ashes in the water drew her curiosity out again. She tried first one finger, then the next, seeing what patterns she could create with her finger motions. Her final triumph was to plunge her blonde curls into the water, and watch her hair turn a smokey color like grandma’s. Grandma would be here soon. Maude wanted to show her the beautiful curls. Mama would be so happy when she showed her how she cleaned her ashtray and cleaned up the toilet waters.





[w.c. 557]