My mom has the best smell on earth.
I don’t know how she makes it. It’s sweet like flowers and clean like air blown straight from the ocean. It smells like mornings waking up with blankets and pillows up to your ears and looking out the window and staying in bed a bit longer. It’s deep, too, like each layer of her skin possesses some special element and they come together just right.
It’s the sort of smell that makes you want to breathe in forever, believe me, it’s that good.
She also has the loudest stomach.
I would lay the side of my head on her lap and close my eyes when we were on a plane or in the car and listen to that stomach gurgle and pop like the strangest lullaby.
My mom told me to be selfish. She said no one would ever care about me as much as I did. And she told me I didn’t have to do anything I didn’t want to do. And she loved me twice. Did you know someone could do that?
She always made it OK to cry.
Oh, and my mom has a great smile – one that crinkles shut the soft, paper skin around her eyes and shows all of her front teeth, the fake ones with the blue gums that she hates.
I love my mom. She is the only mom I will ever have in this lonely world.