She gave me free reign to "do whatever you want to do, Mom." There wasn't much that needed to be done, she'd already put her fingerprints on it, a picture here, a collage of wedding pictures there. It looked like her. It looked like her and her husband.
She really didn't need me the way she thought she did.
But we started this project, this painting project. We went to Lowe's and bought a pretty color called, Sprig to cover what once was the white bookshelf that had been in her room, holding her Harry Potter books, her deals from several library book sales, her children's books, books that I had had as a child. And we painted it sprig.
And we set it up in her apartment, against a wall that connected her kitchen to her dining room and living room space.
And it looks good.
It looks good with her wedding pictures in a window frame above it.
She's the woman her husband married, she's the daughter her dad and I raised, she's the sister that used to annoy her siblings (and maybe still does from time to time), but she's still the girl I remember. Now I just have to get to know the woman she's become.
She doesn't need her Mom to show her how to decorate, how to make her married house a home. She's there. She'll do just fine.