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There are three things of which my mother never spoke.

The weather. She’d known colder, numbers and degrees irrelevant. Threadbare pajamas, frozen nostrils. Barefoot on the icy stone floor, sleepless nights relying on body heat alone, five to a bed.

The trains. Messengers of humanity. That inscrutable sound, the ominous chuck-chuck-chuck, to this day deafening in its horror. Never even bought a ticket. She prefers to drive, or walk, thank you.

The smells. I never questioned the piercing lavender of her face powder that preceded her entrance into any room by several seconds. Her calling card. Her vindication.

 

 

 

Jon Magidsohn is the author of Immortal Highway: a memoir. He has been featured in The Guardian, The Bangalore Mirror, Hippocampus Magazine, Mojave River Review, Full Grown People and has written about fatherhood for Today’s Parent, dadzclub.com and The Good Men Project. He and his family live in London, UK where Jon received an MA in Creative Nonfiction from City University. jonmagidsohn.com.

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