Today in the shower I used my husband's shampoo (Aveda Rosemary Mint, for the curious) something I do very very rarely. As I lathered, the smell of it practically washed over me as a memory.
It was a memory of the first time I used that particular shampoo. I was in a beautiful hotel downtown where J and I had escaped for our tenth wedding anniversary. We were at a point in our lives when we were finally coming up for air from the long hard days of having small children and even smaller amounts of money. It was a blissful weekend, if one notably lacking in places to have breakfast. I remember most wandering the street trying to find an open breakfast restaurant with no luck at all and being somewhat amused that my typical need-to eat bitch, hadn't come out. I remember being mistaken for newlyweds by an older Asian woman also looking for sustenance who asked us with much hope in her face if we knew of a place to eat breakfast.
Sounds lovely I know. A memory that surely would leave me feeling happy and in love with my husband. Which it did. But...
All memories become sad memories. I can't think of a happy time still without feeling, so acutely, that particular emotion is currently and forever unattainable to me. Glimmers here and there exist, but are fleeting and shallow.
