Everything Kaye...In Celebration of Women's History Month

Maya Angelou has stated on many occasions, that we carry our love ones into every room we enter. When you go on a interview, they walk right in with you. I've always pondered this statement over the years. Do we really carry those that have left an impression on us, with us. I believe so. Sometimes even strangers we meet, but surely our family leaves a long lasting imprint on us. And if it served us well, it will come to the rescue when called upon. My mother only had one sister, but I have acquired aunts due to the fact that she had eight brothers. They all left an imprint on me in some kind of way. My Aunt Betty was married to my mom's older brother. She influenced my sense of home décor. Her home was fully furnished, each room carrying it's own theme. They had large pieces of artwork, one was so large that if they laid it on the floor all six of their children could lie down inside of the frame. There was statues and figurines, large plastic plants. Each holiday she would produce grand decorations. She had her husband switch out light fixtures, and all her light switches matched each room. Her curtains always matched her furniture, and I had never seen so many rugs in all my life. The kids would have to take them out and beat them on the fence. They were the first to own a home in our family, so she took great pride in her home. When I graduated from high school I told her that  I had found an apartment and would she help me decorate it? It's not that my mom couldn't decorate, it was more that it wasn't  her passion, it wouldn't be something like in a magazine spread like my aunt's home. She agreed and we meet up at a store two weeks later. It was a long day, but I learned about curtains and the length ratio to the  floor. We purchased a cream colored couch and outfitted it with pillows and a throw. I found this gold diamond shaped stand(you know which one I'm talking about!), we displayed the things I loved and my diploma right on top. As we ate dinner we framed pictures in frames we had spray painted that morning. She loves to paint, I think she repaints the walls in her house every five years. She had some rugs in a guest room that her family wasn't using, that I gladly excepted. Everything I learned about home interior design, I learned from her. I know that what I was taught was executed because her house always felt inviting, and people never want to leave. Yea, they don't. And that's not a bad thing. My home is better for it.

If you would ever watch me clean my house, you would notice it's an art to it. I learned this  skill from my Aunt Stella. She was the most beautiful woman I knew as a teen.  She was a long-legged black Barbie doll. It was easy to imagine her doing ballet around the house as she cleaned. She wore her hair short and sleeked back like Whitney Houston wore hers on her self- titled album. She favored Whitney but a couple shades darker. She loved watching the Phil Donahue show but when it went off, the cleaning began. But on mornings when I was still sleeping I would awake to the sound of music playing and the sound of bedsheets being smoothed out. Smoothed and tucked so tight you could hear her hands run across the sheets. You would see the pillow gently tossed in the air and caught, then gently placed on the bed. The blanket being folded and placed at bottom of bed. No one sat on bed after it was made. As she opened the curtains fully, she would seek out her duster. Her long slender arms moving to the rhythm of the music, dust slowly falling like baby powder being shook from her hands. Then she would brush the falling dust from my uncle's shoes that were lined up against the wall. Opening the closet to put something in she would remind me that everything has a place. It was like each room had a playlist, because it never failed that when the cd ended, she would be heading to the next room. She said if you clean the bathroom every evening, you won't have to clean so hard on the weekend. She always did  a quick wipe down before bed. As she changed the cd, I would position myself to watch by sitting in the hall. She would always flip the shower curtain up over the rod instead of just pulling it back,"You can see the dirt better", she told me.

In the corner she kept another type of duster, it was to capture the spiders that hide in the shower. I think she would've almost broken her neck jumping out of the shower if a spider was in there. Those legs slipping and sliding across the bathroom floor, arms grabbing the shower rod.

Stella kept a small notebook in the kitchen to write down things that needed replenished (if you check my kitchen drawer, you'll find one); they didn't have all the fancy dry erase boards back then. If she saw that they were almost out of something, she would tell me to go write it in the book. Mopping and vacuuming wasn't completed till every room was cleaned. The kitchen was next, but first she would clean the bathroom mirror. There she would stand and pull at her face and rub her cheeks. It was like she was lost in thought. As she ran her hands down her neck, her hips would start swaying back and forth. Last thing she would do is open the bathroom window to air it out. Till this day I love a fresh cleaned bathroom with the windows open.

The kitchen went pretty quick, since she was one of those women that cleaned as she went about cooking. And if she wasn't cleaning out the fridge, even quicker. For some reason after breakfast they always had a couple slices of bacon or sausages left. I don't know if it was purposely left. She would save the bacon for my uncle a sandwich and use the sausage for biscuits and gravy the next morning. By this time we're usually jamming to Aretha Franklin's Spanish Harlem or something. I'd refilled the sugar bowl, and she refilled the little orange and yellow mushroom shaped salt and pepper shakers. The kitchen table was bright yellow with chrome legs, that could open to a larger table, but she said they never had that piece because they purchased it at a second-hand store. After we filled the condiments, she had me clean the legs to the table. They never looked dirty till you touched them. Tilting her head and squinting her eyes at the legs, she would tell me to clean what you don't think company would notice. The kitchen was small and there wasn't a lot of storage, so she would store large bowls and the popcorn popper on top of the cabinets. As she stood on the stepping stool, she would laugh and say, "when you reach or stretch squeeze your butts cheeks!" I would fall out laughing. "Don't laugh, you'll appreciate this when you grown"! Most of my Saturday's mimic her routine from all those years ago, down to her flopping down on couch with a glass of juice and a couple cookies. And yea squeezing those cheeks!

Since my Aunt Betty didn't have live plants, I gladly picked that lesson up from my mom's sister. She could grow anything, I mean anything. She talked and sung to her plants, gave them each names. She collected rain water and kept it in glass jars with egg shells, until algae grew on them. Every time it rains I check my jars . I don't have as many plants as she does but I'm proud of my plants, I mean Lola, WALL-E, and Breezy.  My mom was the cook out of the women, she not only could cook them under the table, but she could execute the meals with style and precision. It was like she was working in a five star restaurant. She could plate the cranberry sauce like it was one of the main courses. She made cooking for my family of four a breeze, and I'm so thankful. I'm so thankful for all the imprints each one of them left on me. I look back with fond memories of each life lesson.

Has anyone imprinted you with a life skill? Give them a call if you can, or just send a thank you out from your heart. Let them know you appreciate them!

Be inspired by Everything Kaye!