You Didn't Smell Like Toothpaste...

Dear Mimi,


The Little One and I went through your clothes last night, and I couldn't stop myself from burying my face in one of your shirts, hoping to smell you. The shirt smelled mostly like toothpaste, and not very much like you. The act itself was an impulse, and as soon as I did it I wished that I hadn't. I looked up, and the Little One was looking at me with this look on her face, a look that said, 'Yeah, I know'. To be honest, I felt a little guilty - like she caught me doing something terrible. I struggle with finding the balance between what Aunt Ginny called my 'composure', and letting the Little One know I'm feeling the same things, and the feelings are okay. They are hard, and sometimes they are really fucking hard. Most of the time, I'm okay. I guess I don't know how else to let her know that we are going to be okay other than to show her that I am.


But that's only true 'most' of the time.


Love,


A