Two days and counting...
Yesterday, I unpacked boxes of glasses from my mother's house. They have been in the basement for two years. I finally went through them to get the wine glasses I wanted to take Downeast.
They still smelled like cigarettes and white diamond perfume. It gave me quite a headache.
I realize today, that I am very much like my mother. I love my time alone, crave it, and always find space for it. As I put the other glasses, the funky ones that I would never buy, into the cabinet I wonder if I'll ever be able to use them.
I don't want to be that much like my mother.
Lately, as I've walked through the dining room, I smell cigarette smoke. All of the furniture, the artwork, the rug, were hers. I pulled my son Ben into the room once- Do you smell smoke?
Are you sure?
Mom, it doesn't smell like anything.
I think she's haunting me. I don't know what she would be mad about. Okay, I can think of a couple of things but overall, nothing big in comparison to the fights we had while she was alive.
Except the book. That, she would not be so happy about.
As I get ready to go on this trip, this sojourn, the past is starting to creep back into my dreams. Last night, I had a horrible nightmare about my abuser. I was trying to get away from the rage.
Whatever it took.
I kept waking up, and reaching out to see if my sweetie was still there. She was. The cats were both perched at the end of the bed, thrilled with the midnight petting.
Will I be able to handle these dreams alone?
I keep hearing my sister tell me to let it go, just let it go.
Maybe... I won't. Not until I make some lemonade from the lemons.
My mother can haunt me. There is something familiar about the smell that feels good. If she had lived to see it, she would have loved downeast. Understood my need to go there.
Two days... I'm a little frantic getting ready, finishing laundry, seeing people, going to baseball games, track meets.
All with a waft of cigarette smoke following behind me.