Many years ago, having a friend come over to your house with a special make-up kit to test you for your “season” in order to sell you the best make-up to accentuate your individual coloring, was all the rage.  Everybody in the office discussed her individual season. At last, finding the right shade of lipstick had a scientific basis.  You couldn’t go wrong!

Make overs of every description always come at a price.  successful ones make the original object or person look and/or feel better. This past month, a competent family member redid the third floor of my house. It looks beautiful!  However, the makeover leaves me with mixed feelings. 

The third floor was my husband’s domain.  There he spent many hours of nearly every day creating art work, or listening to classical music from his 4,000 disk collection.  For over twenty years, those two rooms never saw a duster nor heard a vacuum cleaner. Paint splattered the rugs, discarded newspapers littered the floor, grime covered the windows.  About 10 years ago, I decided not step foot in the place, except in such emergencies as a leaking roof or an unaccountable thud.  Today, the cracked plaster and peeling paint are a memory.  So is the man who  so loved this den he created just below the attic. 

Standing on the new carpet on the landing between the two rooms gives me a sense of relief that, at last, this area is in order.  But, the satisfaction is bitter-sweet because the makeover dims the memory of the man who loved me like no one ever did.  I miss his love; I wish him unending joy.

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