The Smell of Her
If there’s one thing that I miss the most, it’s my mother’s smell. I used to play at her vanity mirror where different shapes and colors of perfume containers ruled the vanity space. I fervently miss her dabbing a drop of perfume on my wrist. I miss giggling with her. Now that she’s gone, she seemed vague in my memory. I tried and tried to picture her out but I can’t. I can only see her face in my mind whenever I smell her perfume. I think it’s my subconscious mind telling me that I’m still in denial with her death. I don’t mind, as long as I can smell her, I will be at peace. In fact, I even wrote on the funeral thank you notes that it’ll greatly appreciate if people would remember her with her signature smell.
