My mom bent down on one knee and was talking to me, telling me how beautiful she was and what she was. I remember looking at her white face with bright red lipstick. Her gown was blue with white flowers that sparkled. Her hair was jet black finely pulled back in a delicate ornate bun with what seemed like chopsticks sticking out of the bun with dangling dainty white flowers streaming down from them. I remember looking at her legs being crossed and the one foot almost reaching my shoulders. Her legs were pure white with one slit made for the big toe that held on to a wooden clog. As my mother talked I slowly reached out my hand to touch her foot, to see if she was real I guess. She still had not moved. My mother quickly grabbed my hand telling me “No, no, no, you can’t touch her, you just look at her. Isn’t she pretty?”. After a few moments and quite a few photos the two gentleman left. My father got down on his knee next to me and started to explain that she was a geisha girl and she is a tradition and a wonderful culture of Japan, I still never took my eyes off her and she still never moved. After a few smiles from my parents they stood up and my mother pulled my hand as they started to walk back to the car. With my parents both looking to the car I needed to look back one more time at the beautiful geisha girl. Looking over my shoulder because my mom was still hanging on to my hand while walking I noticed the geisha girl looking at me with her head turned, she smiled very brightly and winked at me. “Mom. Mom, mom”. But my mom never answered, she just kept walking to the car tugging me along by hand. I was put in the back seat and leaned forward so that I could see out the front window. And there she was, back in her pose like she never moved. Like it never happened. I stared at her as we drove
My mom bent down on one knee and was talking to me, telling me how beautiful she was and what she was. I remember looking at her white face with bright red lipstick. Her gown was blue with white flowers that sparkled. Her hair was jet black finely pulled back in a delicate ornate bun with what seemed like chopsticks sticking out of the bun with dangling dainty white flowers streaming down from them. I remember looking at her legs being crossed and the one foot almost reaching my shoulders. Her legs were pure white with one slit made for the big toe that held on to a wooden clog. As my mother talked I slowly reached out my hand to touch her foot, to see if she was real I guess. She still had not moved. My mother quickly grabbed my hand telling me “No, no, no, you can’t touch her, you just look at her. Isn’t she pretty?”. After a few moments and quite a few photos the two gentleman left. My father got down on his knee next to me and started to explain that she was a geisha girl and she is a tradition and a wonderful culture of Japan, I still never took my eyes off her and she still never moved. After a few smiles from my parents they stood up and my mother pulled my hand as they started to walk back to the car. With my parents both looking to the car I needed to look back one more time at the beautiful geisha girl. Looking over my shoulder because my mom was still hanging on to my hand while walking I noticed the geisha girl looking at me with her head turned, she smiled very brightly and winked at me. “Mom. Mom, mom”. But my mom never answered, she just kept walking to the car tugging me along by hand. I was put in the back seat and leaned forward so that I could see out the front window. And there she was, back in her pose like she never moved. Like it never happened. I stared at her as we drove