Big Yellow Taxi

You're perfect

Item by colorful item Rowan pulled each piece of clothing she owned from inside the small closet she shared with her mother.  The woman held the clothes up in front of her, turning back and forth in front of the old faded mirror that hung on the wall in her mother's room.  The glass was foggy in spots and most of Rowan's reflection was blocked by a painting on the face of the mirror. It usually served as no more than a piece of art, since neither Rowan nor her mother ever spent much time looking at themselves.  After staring at herself for the last twenty minutes straight, Rowan now remembered why she hated mirrors.

Looking at her reflection, all Rowan could focus on were the little things about herself that she didn't like.  She was too tall. Too thin. Her breasts were too small and her eyebrows were too thick. She needed a haircut in the worst way.  Her clothes, all of which she owned because they were made of beautiful or soft fabric and made her feel happy when she wore them, now just didn't look right to her.  She wanted something that would make her look like a normal woman and not some kind of weird hippie. Rowan wanted to look like the kind of woman that she thought the man she met at the market earlier would like.  

"What do bikers like?," she asked the large black dog that had long since grown bored with the fashion show she was putting on.  Tank had watched the woman with interest for the first few minutes, in the hopes that she was pulling on the old worn denim shorts and tank top that meant she was getting ready to take him out to the lake for a swim.  But after it became clear that swimming and playing ball was not on the agenda, the giant dog had retreated to Rowan’s mother's bed where he lay down with his head resting on his paws and his eyes shut. The tone of his mistress's voice alerted him and he raised his head, opening his large brown eyes to look at her.

Rowan was naked except for a skimpy pair of black lace panties and her silver necklace .  She held a long black dress up in front of her body, her face scrunched up at the thought of wearing something that was really too hot for the weather.  Seeing that there was no great emergency, Tank laid his head back down and rolled over onto his back. He wriggled around, mussing up the quilts on Rowan's mother's bed as he fought to scratch and itch that he couldn't reach with his paws or muzzle.  Rowan laughed at the silly dog.  

"Big help you are Tank," she scolded, her tone light and teasing.  Rowan took one more look in the mirror with the black dress held up in front of her body before she hurled it to the ground with the rest of her clothes.  Since the closet was empty, she started sifting through the mess on the floor of the bedroom, hoping something she had already discarded would jump out at her.  

There was a soft tap on the door before it was swung quietly open.  Rowan heard her mother's musical laughter drift in from the doorway.  People were starting to arrive for the festival and Rowan was supposed to be helping her welcome them.  It wasn't like Rowan to shirk her duties. She was a reliable young woman. So when Rowan hadn't shown up her mother had become increasingly worried and finally come to look for her.  Lola had not been expecting to find her daughter naked in the middle of what looked like a tornado mess of clothing. At the sound of Lola's laughter, Tank rolled and hurried down off the woman's bed.  He sat down on his haunches and gave her a look of complete innocence. One that said of course I wasn't on your bed because being on your bed is against the rules.  

"Roe," her mother asked, after stopping to laugh at the guilty look on Tank's face, "what on earth are you doing in here?"  Rowan threw her hands up and let out an exasperated sigh. Trying to look nice for a boy she liked. That's what she was doing.  And since she was still standing around in her underpants, she figured she wasn't doing a very good job at it either. Her mother entered the room, crossing the space between them and pulling her daughter into her arms.  She held the young woman close, stroking her long dark hair.  

"If he likes you, he won't care what you have on," Rowan's mother assured her.  Rowan nodded and let her mother lead her out of the ankle deep pile of clothes she was wading around in.  Her mother plucked a top from the pile and handed it to her. It was an olive green halter style top that tied around the neck and the middle of her back.  Rowan tied it on. As she adjusted it she remembered that she liked this particular top best because the fabric cups on it fit her chest just right. Next her mother tossed her a long flowy skirt.  The floral pattern of the material had little flecks of the same green color the top was made of.  

As Rowan dressed her mother quickly righted the wild mess she had made.  Hanging dresses back on their hangers and tucking the rest of the clothing back into the drawers of her dresser.  When Lola pulled open the large bottom drawer, something caught her eye. A fringed scarf that had belonged to her mother.  It was cream colored, the material soft and worn from years of wear. The scarf had belonged to her mother, and then to her.  The last time she wore it was the day she met Rowan's father. He had come upon her when she was bathing in the creek and she had used the scarf to hide her nude body from his stranger's eyes.  At least until she changed her mind and decided she wanted him to look at her. Then she spread the scarf out on the soft grass of the creek bed and let that strange boy with the long raven hair and the piercing eyes make love to her.  

When she clutched the fabric of the scarf, Lola could feel the magic in it.  She saved the scarf with the intention of giving it to Rowan for her hand binding once her wild daughter finally fell in love and stopped running so wild.  But now Lola knew she had noticed it there in the drawer for a reason. Rowan was meant to have the scarf, and she was meant to have it now.  

Rowan felt her eyes fill with water, a few tears of happiness spilling over the brim and streaking down her cheeks.  She raised her arms and let her mother tie the scarf around her waist, knotting it just right so that the fringe would swing when she walked.  Rowan closed her eyes, her hand rising up to grip the tiger's eye that hung from her neck on a silver chain. She grounded herself with a slow deep breath and willed her emotions to come back under her control.  Then she looked down at the long fringed shawl that was tied around her waist. To anyone else it would have appeared to be a rather ordinary item of clothing. But to Rowan it was more beautiful than anything she owned.  

"Nana's scarf," she whispered, reaching down and lifting a long silky strand of fringe.  She let the material slide through her tattooed fingers before she reached for her mother.  The woman was shorter than her and had been for years. Rowan got her height from her father.  She wrapped her mother up into a fierce hug, more grateful than ever that she was born to the best and most loving mother in the whole entire world.  Lola hugged her daughter back, feeling a swell of sadness mixed with joy. She knew the day would come when she would have to let go and allow her daughter to carve her own path in life.  But knowing and actually feeling the release happen were two entirely different animals. Rowan felt her mother hug her back with as much emotion as she felt. Then the woman was gripping her by the waist and turning her back towards the old faded mirror with the rainbow butterflies painted across the face of it.  

"You're perfect," her mother told her.  Rowan wasn't so sure, but as she turned and twisted her body to get a better look at herself she started to smile.  She didn't look like a biker. She sure didn't look like a normal girl, whatever that meant. But she did look like herself.  And Rowan decided she liked that just fine.