The Scent of a Mother
The children were blindfolded, their moms stood in a row. This was an experiment to see if the children could recognize their mothers by scent alone. Every child picked their own mom.
Thinking about this post I realized that the memory of my mother’s scent is difficult to recall. She passed away 15 years ago and for a long time I could bring to mind her scent, the sound of her voice, the feel of her hugs. Like static on the radio the memories are disjointed fading in and out of clarity.
I felt melancholy to think that those memories will one day be extinguished forever. If I try too hard to remember, it escapes me and then out of the blue the memory rushes back.
A few days after recalling the experiment and thinking of my mom, I dreamt of her. I stood in a crowd. I was focussed on what was happening when something out of the corner of my eye caught my attention. In slow motion I turned to look and saw my mom standing there. She smiled her eyes shining with love. I was confused, staring in unbelief. She slowly, walked towards me, kissed me softly on the lips and then tenderly wrapped me in her arms. Her scent wafted over me in waves.
I awoke, the memory of her fresh in my mind. A dream so vivid it was as if a thin veil separated my world from hers. The dream, a reminder that not even death can destroy a mother’s love. Margaret Rose Johnson was my mother and I remember everything!