I busied myself with chores, getting everything ready for the week ahead. While I dusted the mantel, my thoughts drifted to Mom.
Mom had died five months earlier, and I still worried about her every day. She’d struggled so much with Parkinson’s disease dementia. It caused hallucinations—frightening ones. By the end, she could barely feel safe even in a room with us. When she was alive, at least, I could try to comfort her. I hoped she was comforted now. That she’d finally found peace.
Mom’s free of all that, I told myself, rearranging some books. I just wished there was a way to know for sure….
My thoughts were interrupted by a strange odor. A bouquet of scents mingling into something delightful. As sweet as a violet, as rich as a rose, as gentle as a lily. What could it be?
Maybe my husband had surprised me with a bouquet. I looked around the room. No surprise floral arrangements here. I gave my cleaning rag a hesitant sniff. That definitely wasn’t it. No chemical could match the fresh scent. I breathed in again, trying to track its source. But as fast as it had come, the scent was gone.
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