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Many Scents of Mom

My Mom is always with me.
Like the early morning dew.
With the sunrise I awake to
Smells of coffee freshly brewed.

(I remember how her coffee breath
Would wake me every day.
With the scent of eggs and bacon
Wafting gently up my way.)

She is present in the autumn
As the fallen leaves are burned.
I await the morning school bus
With another day to learn.

(I recall her grubby sweatshirt
As she cheerfully would rake,
Making every chore a pleasure,
Every job a game she’d make.)

In the early noon, at lunchtime,
I could smell the warm grilled cheese
And tomato should would fill the air
With odors that would please.

(Still, no other could approach the skills
She had on these two dishes.
And it’s true no matter what she made
It always was delicious!)

In the winter when I’m feeling bad
With a cough and runny nose,
She would rub some ointment on my chest
And hold me tight and close.

And the smell of Vicks would soothe me
When I was feeling rather pooped.
Mom would sing to me a lullaby
And make chicken noodle soup.

In the afternoon I’d come home
From a day of work and school.
Freshly baked chocolate chip cookies
Would be sitting out to cool.

And then, finally, in the evening,
Just before it’s time for bed.
I would bathe and wash, like Mom did,
From my toes up to my head.

And the scent of soap reminds me
How she smelled so squeaky clean.
How she’d hold me, in her bathrobe,
And my life would be serene.

Yes my Mommy still is with me
And with each breath I inhale
I can feel her loving presence;
All the odors never fail

To remind me that it’s God’s turn
To appreciate her love.
But her warm embrace surrounds me
As she holds me from above.

1998-ish.  RIP, Mom.


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