When I was a kid and didn't quite know how the world worked, my mom Marbella was there with her soft jasmine scent that I loved so much. I remember her in heels, her hair slicked back Farrah Fawcett style, her blouses tight to her body, and in her eyes a lot of hope for the years to come. At that time, it was just me and my older brother, my mom was a very dedicated mother and I admired her a lot too.
In those years I was just getting to know myself, I didn't know much about sexual orientation, but instead of my father being my role model, I always looked up to my mother for her style of dress. The young version of my mother, was very sophisticated even though we lived in a town where the streets were hilly and it was very difficult to walk in heels, she always managed to take my brother and me to school.
Sometimes she would gather her hair with a scarf and I dreamed of that accessory, I didn't know it, but my tastes were not conceived under the standards of masculinity of the time. My dad looked askance at my apparently "feminine" tastes and demanded that I behave like a man. My mom was always more patient, although on many occasions she also referred to me as a bit frustrated, I think she was afraid of how difficult things could get for me if indeed I was homosexual.
However, although with many reproaches I took it upon myself to have an ordinary childhood, with lots of imagination and reading time, something my older brother did not understand. While he distracted himself with traditional games, I asked my mother for geography books, scientific magazines, and many books, which puzzled my relatives.
At the same time that I was discovering the distance between the sun and the earth, my brother, 4 years older than me, was just learning to read. Landy, my brother's name, always looked at me with contempt and anger, something I could never understand, after all, he enjoyed the approval of my parents even though he did not even finish high school and had somewhat erratic behavior.
Much later, I realized how difficult it is to live under the shadow of someone who has many more capabilities than you and I also understood that my parents had a lot to learn, dealing with a rather "mannered" child. The social pressure of knowing my sexual orientation led me to suffer a lot of bullying and teasing for something I didn't know was wrong. I was just a kid and everyone told me that there was something wrong with me and that I would damage the image of the family, that made me sad, but resilience has always been my great secret weapon.
Now I look back with a lot of forgiveness and above all remember the good things, like those breakfasts my mom used to make, the apples, the smell of arepas in the morning, grandma's coffee, her perfume, the smell of my mother's hair, the smell of rain, the smell of the grass growing and even my father's perfume. And I feel connected to many memories, as I have always been a person who can evoke many memories with a simple smell.
I like to identify people by their body odor, that one that is unrepeatable in every human being and that can take me to travel to the past, remember things I thought I had forgotten or simply remember how I felt in such a situation or with such a person. That's why every time I say goodbye to someone I like to hug them tightly so that their scent remains impregnated in my mind forever.
This is how I have always been linked to the smells and fragrances of my surroundings, for example, I can remember exactly how my first boyfriend smelled even though I have probably forgotten about his face. Smell is my most developed sense, I can remember moments, forgive, be happy, be sad or just feel longing for those who are no longer with me in this world. To smell is to live again.
THE END
The sense of smell is a powerful one, and it can bring back memories for many people — like times in our lives when we had certain foods, or certain aromas associated with people we have known at different times. You captured that well.
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I really love reading and comement the work of another users every single time I could. I enjoy a lot when a I was writing this, because all the memories in it.
The smell is a powerful tool for memories, my love. We experience everything at some point and they make us experience both good and bad things. I'm glad you've assimilated that past and made you the person you are now.
I love you!
I love too, thanks for comment this. It meant so much more being You❤️❤️❤️
I am with you on this one, i am a sucker for hugs, hug me when I am having a bad day, hug me when I am stressed and If you smell nice that's an additional bounce for me because your fragrance would be all over me😀😀
Well whenever I Hug someone I hope they smells good otherwise i'm gonna remember them too, but for the wrong reasons, Lol.
What a beautiful story, full of memories that make your life beautiful despite the difficulties that your sexual orientation may have caused you, in an inconceivable world that is retarded with respect to individual decisions in many aspects. I love the kind of detailed and explicit narrative.
I loved the expression towards your mother, nothing more beautiful and special than the memory of that being so decisive in our existence. Thank you for this beautiful and well written story. I enjoyed reading you. A hug back!🤗🫶
My mother always knew who I am, only that in the past was very difficult and today I understand her. The soft smell of love.
It is a story loaded with a lot of reality and feelings that emerge from the past. Society is really hard on those who get out of the social mold.
I really liked being resilient and the struggle to find an identity that makes oneself happy and not others. The smell thing surprised me, not many have that ability.
Thank for sharing.
Good day.
#Hive #Posh
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It's amazing how much we can remember through a simple scent. I have no doubt that your family was bewildered to see how much you were learning. Ever since I have known you, you have struck me as an intelligent and educated person. I am glad that after all, things have turned out well for you. Best regards.