August 2016 . . . .

“Background 1.0, cont.”
     In our house there were two girls, my sisters, and two boys, Dad and me. And balancing it all out — centering it, really — was Mom. Mommy. Glasses, dark hair, low, soft voice Mommy, with her laugh, and the way she sang a song or told a story or taught you how to do something. And the powder smell of her. The dresser in her bedroom had perfume on top, and a telephone — the family could use it but because it was in the bedroom it was more likely that when we finally began using the phone to call our friends or to take calls from our friends, we would use the one downstairs instead. So this was the parent phone. In her dresser drawers Mommy hid Lifesavers candy — Pep-O-Mint, and Spearmint and the feathery soft wintergreen flavor. If they were old enough, that is if nobody found them or Mommy put them in one of her handbags, then the mints became soft. Then they would melt in your mouth, sweet and fresh and wondrous. Mint had that ability to make even breathing special and cold and shivery, even in the middle of hot, humid summer. I fell in love with mint because of Mom hiding candy in her dresser. I also learned to steal, or sneak, or whatever word you choose, because of that love of mint.



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August 2016