POLISHED MAHOGANY

Proverbs 14:13     Even in laughter the heart may ache, and joy may end in grief. 

Polished Mahogany was a hero in the neighborhood where I grew up.   She could make anyone laugh.  “Laughing clears your sinus, darlin’,” she would cackle, “Everybody knows that we need to clear our heads occasionally.  There is nothing better than a good old knee bending, back breaking, snorting laugh to clear the sinus.” 

Auntie M, as we called her, was in her late seventies, never kin but I felt as if she were family.  She lived next door to me while growing up and I was at her house as much as my own.

Polished Mahogany was an artist.  She could paint anything, and she did.  At least once every three months she would change the décor of her house.  “They are speaking to me, darlin’.  Telling me I need more color in my life,” she would say and then lie prone on her stomach with her arms stretched above her head waiting to receive the vision and meditate with the voices she often heard.

Upon receiving her message Auntie M. would be a bundle of energy.  She would seek out all the children in the neighborhood and declare, “Go to the back room, find my box of exotic beads in the back of the closet.”  Or “Quick, find my paint brushes, we need to paint.  Hurry before I lose my vision.”  We would scamper everywhere gathering up supplies before the mood was lost.

We always loved what she painted, and the stories she told, but not our parents (although they would not say anything for fear of losing the best babysitter they ever had). 

“Children are my inspiration,” Auntie M. would tell them. “You can’t make things look good without children around.  I breathe in their energy and glorious things happen.”

Once she painted the house’s interior fuchsia and orange with lime green and purple geometric accents.  Another time she was in a “Picasso” mood, and we painted murals on the walls that looked like Picasso’s ladies, all triangular and out of sorts.  Then there was the “melancholy, monochromatic” mood. The entire house was painted shades of purple, both inside and out.  Every room and every piece of furniture was purple.  The dining room had purple curtains and a purple shag rug.  There was a purple glass table with grapes on the purple iron legs and purple plaid cushions on the seats of the purple chairs.  Even the plates, glasses and silverware were purple.  The kitchen had purple counter tops and cabinets as well as a purple sink, stove, and refrigerator.  Bless her heart, she even dyed her blond cocker spaniel purple and called her Grape.

 My favorite was the time she created a rain forest. 

Trees suddenly began appearing on her outside porch columns and all the rooms had a jungle décor complete with all the animals and snakes.  We neighborhood children loved running through her rain forest house searching each nook and cranny for treasures waiting to be discovered.

Once, Auntie M. disappeared for a week or so and we assumed she was visiting family or on vacation.  Or, just in a mood to disappear.  When she returned, she quietly gathered us around her and said, “Today we must paint everything black. Dark times are ahead,” she whispered.  We didn’t understand but we did as she suggested.  We gathered the supplies needed and began painting the walls and ceiling of her favorite room since she decided that was the only room that needed this gloomy decor.

 When all was done, she insisted we hurry home and dress in our darkest clothes. She handed each of us a note for our parents as we left.  We were to meet her in this special room after supper, with our parents.  

We found Auntie M. lying still in the middle of the floor in the darkened room, lit candles surrounding her angelic body, completely shrouded in white silk.  She had painted an altar on the wall.  

There was a note.  “My darlin’ children, I have gone to the great artist in the sky and shall not see you again until you reach heaven.  Never lose your inner child. I love white calla lilies, darlings.  Don’t be sad, rejoice in my life well-loved and lived.

 Kisses till the beyond, Auntie M.

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