There is a pungent smell on my breath, I stick my nose underneath my collar and close my mouth, but it still does not escape me. It is the smell of worn linen and a hint of morning breath… Most of all this smell is my mother’s. It’s the smell she carries in her short pajama dresses before she reaches for the morning coffee pot and complicates her scent even further. My Dad had the smell too, but his version was different. It scares me to think that I have already forgotten so much of what his version included.
I wonder sometimes how much I will be like my mother. Already I am showing tell tale signs of Adrienne-ifcation. I worry like her, I become forgetful of things that stress me out too much when I think of them initially. I pace around the house when its not clean, giving myself an ulcer over every little thing. I dork out in front of people I trust and shut down in front of people that I don’t. Its even starting to become apparent in the way I dress. Constantly I see reoccurring patterns in the things that I buy, everything I like it Native American, turquoise, dark earth tones, or my interest towards things that are knit. I wonder if I really like these things or whether I just miss her.
P.S: She was Sookie Stackhouse for Halloween.
True Blood is both hers and mines favorite show. (Though I doubt we could ever watch it together, that'd be a little creepy.)
and he never will be
6 years ago