#SOL18 Day One
She was in aisle 3. The cleaning supplies.
“Oh no! Not possible! Don’t come near this one!” Her nose was scrunched up with a look of remembering in her eyes.
“Lavender”, she yelled. I could hear her all the way at the end of aisle 3, near the milk.
Lavender, I thought. Lavender.
My mind had the same look of remembering as her eyes.
The remembering wasn’t of the bountiful lilac bush that grows outside of Kolmar School and blooms so beautifully every spring.
The remembering wasn’t of the way our neighbors lilac bush would grow over our fence at the house in Park Forest where I spent my childhood.
The remembering wasn’t of freshly cut lilac stems sitting in a vase of water with the scent wafting from room to room in my condo in Orland Park.
Those pictures in my mind have now been replaced with new remembering.
The walk into the facility.
One ambo driver saying quietly to the other, “Hmmmmmm. Sure is a strong smell of lavender here.”
Didn’t she know that I could hear her?
That we could hear her?
For the next 52 days, I would be washing that lilac out of my clothes every night. With the hopes of not remembering it anymore.