zeina hashem beck
notes on lipstick Today, you bought new lipstick. You ate dark chocolate, listened to a friend talk about marriage. You saw a newborn in a stroller & weren’t moved. You’re relieved your children’s legs don’t rest around your hips anymore, that they click their seatbelts into place by themselves. Your older daughter just turned 10 & is learning to send you messages like “Keep Calm & Love Mama.” She imitated your dance moves in the car. This made you feel a little immortal. The lipstick you bought is called Plum. It smells good. You’re learning to love bolder colors on your lips: red, mauve, fuchsia. You want to go out one day & buy green lipstick. There should be lipstick called “To Go Out One Day & Buy Green Lipstick” or “I Talk About Marriage With My Girlfriends All the Time” or “I Will Party Tonight” or “Because Life Is Too Short.” Except today life felt long enough for you to go through your old makeup. You gave your daughter the lipsticks she’d broken & told her not to touch the new ones. You threatened, she nodded & smiled at her gift. Life was long enough for you to go out before sunset because you needed tomatoes & the hypnotic light at that time of the day. You only remembered the tomatoes when you opened the fridge & only remembered the beautiful light when you drove through it. The world took slower breaths
54
