violetperfume.jpgI don’t know where Granny got this tiny bottle of violet perfume or how long she’d had it before she gave it to me. I know I was very young when I got it; five, six, seven? And I know that I immediately fell in love with it. It had the most wonderful scent I had ever smelled, a mixture of flowers and baby powder, and even today, 35 years later, it still smells quite nicely. I also loved the little bottle, about as long as my little finger is now, because Granny had given it to me, and I loved Granny, oh so much.
For years and years I kept the little bottle with me, never using it because I did not want to waste a drop of its essence. At home, at the apartment where I grew up, I kept it in a shelf in my bathroom (I had appropriated the half-bathroom, by the kitchen, and nobody else really used it). One day, I can’t remember what year or how old I was, my sister Gabriela got into my perfume and used a bunch – it’s not just evaporation that has made it half empty. I was incredibly mad, as you can imagine.
I am not sure if I brought this little bottle with me when I first came to America, or if Gladys brought it here at some point after that, but I know it’s been with me at least since college. For the last eight years, however, it’s been hiding in a box in the garage – together with other mementos that struggle to be linked to memories. I found it a couple of days ago, I expected it to smell horribly, but it’s still nice. Mika liked it, and the story that came with it. And I… well, it brings back memories of Granny and Gladys, of childhood and love, and that’s always bittersweet.
I’d like to keep the little bottle on my desk, smell it from time to time, but here it runs the risk of being emptied by a naughty child, so it’ll have to go back into hiding, for some more years at least. And then one day I’ll find it, and remember again.