When I open my Mother’s cook book, I smell L’Air du Temps, stale cigarette smoke and regrets.
When my Father left, it destroyed her.
She drank to forget and drank some more to forget
She was drinking.
I asked help from her family and they told me to be a good Christian
And forgive.
Therapy helped me realize that I should let it go.
I did such a good job of this that I don’t exactly remember
What year she passed. I know it was December...the 15th? 2011 or 2012?
When I think about this I smell L’Air du Temps, stale cigarette smoke and regrets.
