Signals from Vanilla Fields
My mother's perfume
A poem by Nickie | June 13, 2026
It's time to wake up and get ready for school
A strong hug and a quick kiss on the cheek as she leaves for work
(careful to not mess up her makeup)
A 45-minute drive to the nearest Walmart to buy groceries for the week
Going out to eat a nice dinner
Driving to pick up dad from work
Road trips starting at 5:00 AM so that we can sit in for mass
before going to the beach
An afternoon of driving around to pay bills with paper checks
The hurried ride to the doctor's office,
laden with guilt for making her take time off from work
The bright, warm smile offered to each resident
as she places their diapers into their dressers each morning
The wrist that brushes my hair into a tight ponytail on picture day
My one black dress laid out for me to attend a family member's funeral
The hand that led me through the most beautiful craftsman home
I've ever set foot in
The hands that carry the clothes that are two sizes too small to the dressing room as we go school shopping
The hands that toss the correct sizes over the dressing room door
My favorite field trip chaperone
My biggest support yet toughest critic off the field
The pride radiating from the crowd as I crossed the stage
The teary eyes watching me walk down the aisle
The hands that continue to labor over my birthday dinner each year
The arms that embrace me when I leave
and remain open for my return
