While on the train today, I caught a whiff of my mom's old perfume, Lancôme Trésor. At that moment, standing beside sweaty white collar workers and stroller pushing aunties, I was reminded of much younger days when I would tug at the helm of my mother's skirt for attention. When my face was devoid of lines and everything felt better with a mere present of stickers or ice cream.
How human is it to experience such flashbacks through a simple occurrence? I can't wait to go home this weekend for our early Mother's Day celebration. Lately it seems like there's so much to be happy for, but with all my time spent working, it's just so hard to do so.