The objects I can’t find but will never forget
Preview to a tribute
This is part of this week’s story, “Five ways I remember my mother.” I’ll share the entire story on Wednesday.
The objects I can’t find but will never forget
What happened to those beautiful perfume bottles that lived on your dresser for so many years—first in the apartment in Queens, and later in New Jersey, on your new bureau? Where are they now? Did you give them away? Did you ever wear perfume?
My mother was so sensitive to smell; I can’t remember her ever using perfume.
But I distinctly recall those cobalt blue perfume bottles that sat on her bureau on a mirrored tray. One was short and plump; the other, taller and slimmer. Both were thick and had wide creases folded into their design.
My memory of these objects is both visual and tactile.
Despite their weight, I’d pick them up, run my fingers along those thick edges. I know I would do the same today if I could.
This other object is one piece of jewelry I might wear today if I had it.
That gold heart that you wore is missing, too, and I’ve been looking for it since you passed. The only time I have found it was when looking through old photographs. At least I know I wasn’t making it up. But I’m so sorry it’s missing.
Our home was host to many beautiful objects. And now, they are scattered to places both known and obscure to me.
Many exist in fragile, unreliable places in my memory.
Thanks for reading this segment of this week’s story! More coming up in Wednesday’s newsletter!
Also, coming on Wednesday is my conversation with Dr. Jane Bormeister at 2 pm EDT.
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I’m excited for the full story and the chance to sit down and talk.