Mother Scent
I wonder if I’ll smell like my mother when I get older. I’m cat-sitting for her while she’s at the beach with my brother and sister-in-law this week. One of the perks of taking on this responsibility is that I get to do my laundry in her nice machine instead of the aging and unreliable ones at my apartment building. Another perk is experiencing my mother’s personality through her belongings while she’s away. One can surmise a great deal about a person via their kitchen utensils, pantry contents and personal grooming implements. For example, my mom left out an old-fashioned rubber ice bag for me because she knew I was having some back pain before she left. Who uses anything other than frozen vegetable bags for icing sore joints these days? She also seems to be hoarding soap. There are stacks of wrapped bars on a shelf in the bathroom, still more in a closet. Old-fashioned brand names like Fels-Naptha are unfamiliar to me, but the aroma in my mother’s bathroom is as familiar a...