I love to write, so why does the first blank page of this blog induce a bit of anxiety? My first book, “A Year of Wearing My Mother’s Perfume,” is almost finished. My mentor says writers need a webpage with a blog, even if they haven’t published anything yet. So here I am writing to you, but in reality, it all began on a rainy Monday when a reporter wanted to interview me about my mother’s death two days earlier when an 18-wheeler tractor-trailer crashed into her waiting car at a red light. Many people wondered how I could forgive the truck driver. This story of forgiveness begins with my mother.
The day after my mother’s death, I looked at her smooth cherry dresser. Among the other pretty things, a mirrored tray held her perfume bottles. Some were vintage and some were newer. I lifted one of the beautiful bottles, caressing the cool, smooth curve of the glass and drew out the stopper. Molecules of memories came pouring out of the jar. Fragrance is the most powerful trigger of memories, especially early memories.
The reporter was waiting for my reply. Thoughts raced through my mind. I didn’t know how the reporter and cameraman found my mother’s house. GPS didn’t work in the mountains where her house was located. I didn’t want to be interviewed in my heartbroken condition. I was grieving, exhausted from lack of sleep, as well as going through my mother’s house to find her will. I was disheveled from cleaning after all the company who visited from out of state. The suitcases of family who remained were all over the place. I thought the reporter couldn’t have come at a worse time.
I made my apologies, but then as the reporter turned to go, she said, “Don’t you want people to know what kind of mother you had?” It suddenly struck me. Yes! I did want people to know what kind of mother I had. In the course of the interview, both the reporter and the cameraman had tears. When evening came, I watched the gripping interview. Already, my mother’s perfume was scenting the air.
The essential ingredients of my mother’s life, her ideals and practices, are distilled and blended to make a beautiful perfume that infuses my life to this day. These essential ingredients come from an ancient source. I would love to share some of her secrets with you. Please join me on this journey as we talk about the perfume of love, joy, and forgiveness.
Take care,
Charlyne Cox