“Like you, I thought the bottle would last forever.” dlh
Her scent is with me as if she sits in the chair next to me, but of course that is impossible. Yet my memory never fails to recognize this embracing fragrance should it float by interrupting my day. Many times I have been in public and detected her beautiful scent worn by another. I like to think it is her speaking indirectly to me! The fragrance conjures a distant warmth within my soul attached to school mornings bustling about our apartment, all of us trying to get to where we needed to be. My sister and I were ushered through our mornings by my mother who had the double duty of getting us and herself ready each day. Her sweet, spicy scent swirled about our small two bedroom apartment, lingering on my cheek as I walked to the bus stop. Every day was the same for as long as I can remember. Chanel Nº5.
And now, looking at the last precious drops remaining in her beloved bottle of Chanel Nº5, I wish I could have stretched these fragranced memories for longer than the ten years I’ve held them. Her dusting powder is long gone. I used it every day after she died until nothing remained in the black lacquered box. This perfume I’ve used over the years to celebrate her birthday, my and my sister’s birthdays, Mother’s Day or times when I needed a hug. With so little remaining I’ll reserve its use for the most cherished moments…the birth of her great-grandchildren perhaps?
Until those monumental events arise, I’ll not spritz my mother’s perfume again. I’ll simply sniff the bottle’s faint outer remnants of that beautiful, signature fragrance claimed by my mother so long ago to be her own.