When I went awayon work trips and my childrenwere still small, my motherwould retrieve from the hampera nightshirt I'd worn, or a scarfI'd carelessly draped over a chair.She'd line their pillows with theseunwashed articles, declaring myingrained sce… | By Luisa A. Igloria on July 28, 2024 | When I went away on work trips and my children were still small, my mother would retrieve from the hamper a nightshirt I'd worn, or a scarf I'd carelessly draped over a chair.
She'd line their pillows with these unwashed articles, declaring my ingrained scent would remind them of me and keep them from being disconsolate or having bad dreams.
I never asked if these unlikely charms soothed their separation anxiety, if somehow they released a cloud of comforting scent that slipped into their beds, resembling my body.
Like everyone else, we bear the deep impression of hurts and slights. These graft themselves to what we remember of joyous times, stirring in us like the Chimera from Greek myths— she is fire-
breathing monster made of different parts: golden-maned lion and bleating goat, fierce dragon and blue-scaled snake. If she is mother besides, her children's cells live past birth in her body and in her brain, knitted garment she will ever wear. | | | |
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