The Mountain Story; Lori Lansens
Gallery Books - 2015
"My boyhood home on Old Dewey Road stood among similar clapboard bungalows in the older, grimier section of Mercury, upwind of Michigan's largest rendering plant, with the train tracks near enough that I could distinguish passenger from freight by the way the house shook. A year and a half after my mother's accident -- that's what we called it--my father briefly got sober and painted the entire house, inside and out, a dark, flat blue. Drowning Man Blue. Frankie said it was a tribute to Glory. She loved the color blue
Frankie said I was too young, only four year's old when she passed away, to have an honest recollection of my mother, but I do. Glory Elizabeth Truly. In my favorite memory she wears a silky white dress with bat wing sleeves--one I've never seen in photographs. She's standing in front of a dressing room mirror, smiling at our reflection, and behind us is another mirror where I discover our infinity. "Always", I say. My beautiful mother laughs and tells me I'm clever before covering my face with soft kisses and spinning me in her embrace. I glimpse us with each turn. Glory looks like an angel in that white dress"
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