In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Our House.”
My house was an apartment during this memory. My dad was a Chaplin in the Army and my mom a Registered Nurse who worked third shift. My mother would work all night and then come home to cook and clean. I can remember the smell of bacon and eggs during the week and Pancakes on the weekend. I can still hear my mother singing or humming Baptist songs while she cooked and made the beds. I can remember her white, like an angel nursing uniform, and my dad’s Olive green military officers uniform. Mamma coming, daddy going and I would be in my room getting ready for school. I had the smallest bed room and I remember how the double bed filled the room and the smell of the Cotton White Bedspread that was always made and clean with that just out of the dyer smell. And the window by the bed. That window! The one I would jump out of and sneak off on occasion with my friends. I thought I gotten a way with it but many years later my dad, in a way only dad’s can do, let me know I had never gotten away with it. The window was above some hedges and I can remember how they looked and smelled because they would end up all over me as I tore into them from above. I remember how the front door would squeak as I snuck in and how I would always be frantic tip toeing passed my parents room. They both were sound sleepers and on the nights my mother was home it was like a lumber yard! Man could they snore! I guess that’s because they both worked very hard. I take that back, I KNOW it’s because they worked very hard. My father was always the first one in the office and the last one to leave and my mother loved her job so much it was irrelevant when the shift ended. I remember work was big in our house and I learned to be a pretty hard worker myself. My dad smoked,as most military men, and I can remember the smell of cigarettes on his clothes and the smell of cigarettes and coffee on his breath, especially in our house when I would come home late and he would have some firm words for me. Our house never smelled of smoke because he only smoked at work or outside. My house always smelled clean and like plants or flowers that my mother always had in their season. Different smells depending on the time of year and of course we had the holiday smells. Christmas candles burning with a winter smell or Halloween with pine and whatever else Haloweenie. I never could figure out how mother always had the house smelling just right. Mothers can do things like that. Things a man or a not a mommies can’t seem to do. I can’t end without the smell of Fried Chicken after church every Sunday. My mother cooked the best Fried Chicken on the planet and you could smell it all through the apartment complex which made Sunday at my house really popular with the neighbors. Especially the 3rd Army Major who lived below us that was not married. He REALLY liked to come over on Sunday. Wow! I could go on forever! My mother’s perfume and hair spray. My dad’s BO but I think I’ve probably bored ya’ll enough.