It was 12:45 AM on Mothers' Day, the first Mothers' Day since the death of my mother. My daughter was due to come home soon. I was asleep, or half asleep, when I smelled strong perfume, and it woke me up. I thought it might have wafted from my daughter as she walked passed my bedroom, but I looked at her room and the light was still off, she wasn't home. The rest of the night, morning, and half of the afternoon went by without incident, then I spotted something in the corner of my dining room. It appeared to be many white paper napkins layed carefully on the floor. I assumed someone in the family put them there in an effort to sop up cat urine. I asked my son, my daughter, and my husband if they did it, but nobody knew anything about it. On closer inspection, I realized that those weren't napkins, but white resealable plastic bags, 12 inches long and five and a half inches wide, each was folded in half. There were 14 of them. I've never seen those bags before, and have no idea where they came from.
Did I dream of smelling perfume? Where did that smell come from? Was it my mother? Was it also my mother tending to my cat's mess? I guess I'll never know. But if someone unseen, smelling of perfume, cleans up my house next Mothers' Day, I'll know it's her.
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