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I had a strange day the other day.
Different scents are so evocative, aren't they? A single waft of a scent can bring back such clear memories with such strong associations. Nicola was putting on hand cream at work the other day and I smelt it before I saw it and it nearly made me cry, because it smelt just like the hand cream my mother was always putting on. I was sorting through the stuff in the bottom of her wardrobe to find her medicines to take back to the pharmacy and it's unbelievable how much it smells like my mother.
Estee Lauder is my mother-smell. She wore it all the time - the powder, the make-up, the washes and things. She loved that smell. I broke down when I recognised that smell. I almost didn't go back to work after my lunch break (when I was doing this) because it affected me so much.
If I could, I would bottle it. I would keep that scent in tiny glass bottles and carry it around with me and only let it out in tiny wisps when I need comforting, and be so frugal that it lasted me the rest of my life, or at least until I'm so far gone with Alzheimers that I don't remember what it is.
Tomorrow it will have been a month since my mother died.
Her handwriting is everywhere. I found one of her hairs on one of her things in the bathroom the other day, and I could tell it was hers because of the length and the colour that is different to that of my sister and I. I have the sense to know that I don't know how to let her go.
I have the sense to know that curling up in her wardrobe and shutting the doors is not a good idea, even if it seems like one.
Different scents are so evocative, aren't they? A single waft of a scent can bring back such clear memories with such strong associations. Nicola was putting on hand cream at work the other day and I smelt it before I saw it and it nearly made me cry, because it smelt just like the hand cream my mother was always putting on. I was sorting through the stuff in the bottom of her wardrobe to find her medicines to take back to the pharmacy and it's unbelievable how much it smells like my mother.
Estee Lauder is my mother-smell. She wore it all the time - the powder, the make-up, the washes and things. She loved that smell. I broke down when I recognised that smell. I almost didn't go back to work after my lunch break (when I was doing this) because it affected me so much.
If I could, I would bottle it. I would keep that scent in tiny glass bottles and carry it around with me and only let it out in tiny wisps when I need comforting, and be so frugal that it lasted me the rest of my life, or at least until I'm so far gone with Alzheimers that I don't remember what it is.
Tomorrow it will have been a month since my mother died.
Her handwriting is everywhere. I found one of her hairs on one of her things in the bathroom the other day, and I could tell it was hers because of the length and the colour that is different to that of my sister and I. I have the sense to know that I don't know how to let her go.
I have the sense to know that curling up in her wardrobe and shutting the doors is not a good idea, even if it seems like one.
