dresser as long as I have memory.
I used to go in her room and rummage through her lotions on this mirrored plate. I'd spray her perfumes and check my hair in her bedroom vanity. She always had great lighting in her room. Ambient and soft.
As I got older and would come home to visit, I no longer rummaged and sprayed perfume. But instead, when I would talk to her about the big things, or just idle gossip, I'd stand at her dresser and mindlessly line up her lotion bottles on this plate while we chatted. I can still hear the sounds they would make.
And smell her perfume.