They were very beautiful. What am I saying? They were the most beautiful mother and daughter in our city. People could not take their eyes away from them. Nela would look at me attentively and say, ‘You understand life as if you were adult, but you are only a little girl, like Ela. You see everything, but you say nothing.’ I would look back and say nothing. I understood everything, and she knew that.
We are not young anymore. Nela passed away years ago. Every day Ela opens the closet door and looks at her mother's gloves. She keeps them in a sealed plastic bag. She wants to preserve the smell of her mother on them. She opens the bag after Nela's death anniversary mass. She smells the delicate scent of her mother's hands. Ela does it once a year only. She wants the beloved scent to last longer. She kisses the gloves and presses them to her face. Her tears and the scent of her mother become one. Ela and Nela are together again.
I say nothing.
