I am thankful for the rash that developed overnight on my right cheek. My mother loves to spot the redness; ever since I was a kid who got eczema she's been right on it. There's some! With excited worry, prodding at my face. She sighs like it's real bad, and shows me sympathy I didn't know I needed. She'll look at me sometimes like this girl could be so pretty if only she brushed her hair, didn't get rashes on her right cheek, and shaved her mustache.
It's why eyesight gets worse when you get older; a blessing for daughters like me with moms and grandmas like mine.
Here I've gone and done it though. My Mom will say "I do not." She'll be all sorry and embarrassed and she needn't be. Because I know she only stares at my blemishes because she cares. And I know that when the light from the kitchen window pours in behind my head and soft focuses her gaze, she will remember that I am her most beautiful flesh and blood daughter.
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