Three Wednesdays ago...

...I found a seat on the crowded subway car, Yonge line southbound from Summerhill to Union. It was just after 5pm and the riders were anxious to get home. After a few minutes of sitting, I realized there was a scent in the air...familiar but distant in my memory. I finally recognized it as the scent of my mother. Not simply her perfume or her hairspray, but of her whole being. Like the waft of air that swirls between two bodies when someone gives you a giant hug. I breathed in the flour dust left on her apron after baking a batch of cookies. The smell of moisturizer that was kept to the right of the kitchen sink. The faint odour of cigarette smoke next to laundry detergent, dish soap and Fendi. The tarnished aroma of her gold jewellery. The unidentifiable smell of the garden mixed in with her happiness and optimism. I looked at all of the faces surrounding me, hoping to make some sense of it all, but nothing. Just a collection of blank stares and me with a giant lump in my throat. As soon as I exited it all vanished..