(no subject)

I think I am in a part of my life where I am only remembering the good things, more or less, of my mom. The sacrifices she made, and how she tried her hardest to provide good experiences for us.

Today I am thinking of her winter coats, and how when I’d use them when feeding the horses I’d find wadded you paper towels she used to blow her nose and cigarette packs that were mostly empty.

Textures and smells.