One Last Act of Kindness
by Traci Poole
August 4, 2000

Sydney fumbled with the tiny yellow ribbon nestled in her dark locks. She stood in front of the tiny house that held many memories of her as a child. Sydney slowly turned the key of her childhood home and immediately the memories of her mother came rushing forth. She crept to the kitchen and sat down. A long and tender sigh escaped her quivering lips. Sydney could still smell the aromas of pies baking in the oven. She looked around, hoping to catch a glimpse of her past but instead the sounds of emptiness invaded her memories. The memories of her childhood crashed upon her deafened ears. Sydney longed to hear the laughter of her mother again.

Sydney steadily stood up and walked back to the living room. Family pictures stood neatly on the fireplace mantel, awards hung neatly on the old painted walls, and the dried bouquet of roses had begun to collect dust. She crept down the empty hallway and opened the door of her mother's bedroom. The bed still neatly made and the curtains drawn back in an orderly fashion. The vanity mirror beckoned to the tired woman as it had done in her childhood past. Sydney sat down and studied the reflection in the mirror. She saw her mother's reflection. The familiar hands gently combed out the tangled curls from her hair. Sydney could feel the tender tugs from her mother. She felt her mother's hands releasing the curls from the tangled yellow ribbon. Tears began their trek down her lovely face, plunging softly to the wooden table of the vanity. Sydney grabbed a kleenex and blew her nose. Her mother's cologne still lingered on the tissues. She sniffed again.

The visibly, tired woman lifted herself from the vanity and gradually walked back to the living room. She took one last glance before heading to the funeral home for the final visit with her mother.

She knew today would be the hardest. Sydney followed the usher as he took her to where her mother was. She inched her way to the casket. Her mother's angelic face seemed to be a peace now. She wasn't in anymore pain. Sydney reached deep into her purse and brought out the hair brush. She took her mother's auburn locks into her hands and brushed them out gently; caressing each one. Sydney took the little yellow ribbon from her own raven hair, and neatly tied it into her mother's hair.

It was the last act of a daughter's love Sydney could give her mother. Her mother would forever wear the tiny yellow ribbon just as the memories of Sydney's mother tying the same yellow ribbon into Sydney's hair would remain, forever frozen in time.

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