Thursday, November 12, 2015

My Mother's Pillows

When I was little, my mother usually slept on the living room couch, both during the night and for intermittent naps throughout the day.  When I was sick, sometimes she would pile her pillows up high and let me lie on the couch so I could watch TV.  I never got the knack of how she piled the pillows up so that I could recline at an almost exactly 45 degree angle, but I liked it.  It helped me to be able to breathe better, and I found it comforting.

I always liked the smell of my mother's pillows when I was little.  I found it comforting too.  I remember once as a small child hugging my mother and then saying out loud in surprised delight, "Your hair smells like pillows!"  She pulled away from me like I'd said something wrong.  "I like it," I had added by way of explanation. 

When I was an adult, I noticed once that my hair smelled like pillows too.  I hadn't washed it in a couple days.  The comforting smell I had associated with my mother and her pillows was just the smell of unwashed hair.  It isn't comforting to me anymore because she isn't comforting to me anymore.  I wash my hair before I go to bed now.  If it isn't clean enough and I turn over in my sleep, I catch the smell of my mother in my hair and it wakes me up.  It makes it hard to sleep. 

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