Occasionally when I come home, I will walk in the house and I will smell my mother. It is a scent this house always held when my mother lived here -- a scent made up of the cosmetics she used. It has been well over six years since my mother was in this house, and it has long since completely dissipated. But just occasionally, it is there, and I think perhaps my mother has just come to visit, just come to remind me that she is still watching over me.
Today, twice I had little waves of the scent of Michaela -- once a distinctive smell, like of the diapers she used perhaps, and once of a more general smell that just plainly reminded me of a late winter/early spring morning in the house I lived in when she was born. Both were very striking, and unusual. Perhaps it was Michaela, come to visit me.
Oh how I wish I knew for certain what happened to her, whether she is at peace in another place, or still lost in this world. I can never stop looking for her, because if she were to still be alive, to give up on her would be abandoning her. And I don't want to hear that she is dead, that she was murdered. But I just so much want to know that in this moment in time she is at peace, that she is happy.