You are in my heart

I’m sad. There is a lump of sadness in my throat and chest. I haven’t cried yet – that could help but the tears are frozen in my throat. My Aunt Eva has moved to her next scene in life.

She spoilt me, brightened my childhood the way a little girl likes it. She got me that coloured flowery dress. That very unique hair clip that I wore to school to show off and got my temperamental teacher in a rage.

She is daring and non-conforming. She takes my little 6 or 7yr old hand and walks me to her ‘local’. She perches me on a sina tabu and orders our drinks. It is Sunday afternoon and the commoners here must be sleeping their drunkenness off. It’s almost just me, Aunt Eva and our contrasting drinks. Im perturbed, mesmerised and enjoying this grown-up ‘play place.’ I especially enjoy the smell. The different smells.

I can smell her now. Her house too. The leathery musky, masculinish odour. Still hangs in my nostrils. Her personality odourised.

I grew up, she grew up. Mother says she has lost the formidable frame I remember. A less formidable and dauntable Aunt Eva does not come to mind or heart. I shall stay with my Aunt Eva.

Running to your house on Sunday afternoon and not finding you, waiting at the steps. Closing my eyes, with my head on my lap, listening to you approach. I can hear your heavy footfalls. I shall hold onto that memory. Your scent as you wrapped my little form in your arms. I keep that.