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我闭上眼睛，仍能闻到她的气息：粉扑的香味，优雅、安全、坚强，以及一种无条件的爱的气息。
Hepburn, the Mother
I remember whenever she had to go to a dinner or a cocktail party, she would always say, “Oh, if only I could stay home and eat in the kitchen with you.”
I remember school days, cramming for exams for which she probably fretted more than I did. She would test me before bed and again in the morning, waking up with the sort of sleepy head only adults enjoy.
I remember her elation at good grades, her support and positiveness for the “not so good ones.”
I remember sleepovers on weekends, when we would chat with the lights out. We would talk about feelings and plans and people and things, but in that way that is specific to that darkness, like two souls suspended.
I close my eyes and remember, through the nose, her scent: powdery, elegant, safe, strong, the scent of unconditional love. I look down and see her delicate hands, their skin so thin I can faintly see their veins, her nails round, soft, and clear. They caressed me, they walked me to school, and I held on to them when I was scared. Oh, how I miss them!
