Perpetual elegance

You must, above all else, Respect Her Privacy
says Mum, not sotto voce
as many of her utterances were
but very serious and clear.
Of course.
She is one of my favourites
of all the GrownUps.
Especially now that I am one! I feel glee, being all grown up and wish to fling myself into Mary Tyler Moorisms, like hugging myself and spinning in the street.
She is my Fairy Godmother.

You can call her whenever you need to, I think. But you wouldn't, you know, intrude. Correct?
Of course.
When I see her I wish to be like her
but I will never be.
I am brash and direct and have a terrible habit for flinging things out there.
I lack that sort of elegance
She never fades nor ages and does not need to announce her arrival
kind of like Grace Kelly
I once thought, after seeing a film.
She does not waste words, but each is perfectly chosen, like fine china at a tea party.
The little things I aspire to -
how to drop a bunch of dangling summer blossoms;
how to effect privacy, politely but firmly;
how to look effortlessly beautiful and ward off the Great Unwashed;
how to befriend an eccentric, the socialite and the ascetist alike;
how to be kind, selfless and Christian, close to God, but also know what space to make for oneself and appropriate boundaries;
how to live in the moment but segue into time and space where a whim, a splash of paint or thread of poetry may go.

We see each other little although I learn from her all the time.
That sunny Sunday afternoon we spoke, I cried. It was the first time I told anyone where I really was.
"What is wrong dear?" she asked, through my melancholy and tears.
"I'm not doing so well. I think I'm, like, falling apart a bit. I'm having a spiritual lacuna. I thought I might go to mass tonight."
"I think that is a very good idea."

She came to visit me in Mrs Havisham's house, brought Mum, was kind to me, consistent with the general way  she has bestowed nothing but kindness upon me since I was small and stuck things up my nose, especially since I moved to her town.
Mum said she once wrote a book on manners for children.
I hope it was not inspired by watching Caitlin and Patrick eat or play like little Balmain ruffians and monsters.

This, dear Fairy Godmother, is my tribute to you, the most sincere I can offer. You will never age nor fade to the Kelly kids and I love and thank you for your consistency, clarity, eternal kindness and all the rest.

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