Alli was just 7 months old when hubby was transferred to Sandakan. That was one of the darkest period in our lives.
On mum's advice I kept one of hubby's t-shirt unwashed. According to her, the preserved smell of the unwashed clothing would be handy should baby Alli yearns for his daddy. I did just that, let Alli smelled his daddy's t-shirt whenever he gave the abnormal cries, the non-stop crying that you would know instinctly over time as a result for that yearning.
I still remember that advice.
I still do it today.
Not only for Alli's sake.
For my sake as well.
Just like a baby, I would smell hubby's t-shirt.
I would inhale his smell.
I would inhale the residue of his sweat.
I would inhale the residue of his perfume.
As deeply as my lungs would permit.
To feel his presence.
So that I would not forget.
So that I would remember.
Sounds pathetic, isn't it.
But it serves its purpose well for me.
Hubby could not take leave on this school holidays.
Hubby could only take a week off after the school holidays.
That is fine with me, as long as he stays longer with us.
Beggars can't be choosers, they said.
I hope next week will go off in a swift.
I hope next week will go off in a blink.
I hope next week will go off in a jiffy.
Coz I am running...
I am running out of smell...