Xtra Xtra

I have this memory; it’s more tied to a scent than a visual memory I hold. It’s so simple I may not have recalled it at all if I didn’t fall in love with this Hello Kitty hand lotion I found like a diamond in the rough at TJ Maxx. It was a limited-edition strawberry—sounds pretty common, right? As soon as I put that light pink, sweet-smelling lotion on, I was transported back to my grandmother’s car. I’m not sure which make and model it was from the 1970s, but the back leather seats were split and would pinch my skin, so we had a handmade afghan over the chair.

Anyway, there I was, maybe six or seven years old, chewing on Xtra hot pink strawberry gum, stuck in that uncomfortable chair, listening to and being dragged around and ignored by my mother, per usual, going God knows where in a cloud of Newports. That gum was my only source of personal space. And she would yell, “I HATE the smell of that gum, Kristen Anne. Not another piece. I am never buying it again, and you’re enjoying it too, you little bitch.” She then proceeded to detach from me and reengage with the road and her primary passenger and destination.

Then those few last pieces and last moments chewing them became my act of resistance—my own chewing rebellion—each delicious chomp bursting with a small, refreshing win. She was right; I did enjoy that part.

Now, as an adult, being further removed from her and her ways with each breath, I keep my use of this lotion sparingly—sometimes as a little midday treat and before bed. But it is always a little extra happy boost, or satisfaction, maybe—yes, satisfaction—saying I am still here, free of you, free to have sweetness of scents without punishment of words. Each little session of rubbing my hands, breathing in that scent, and the smile that follows.

I am still so close to that little girl. I live alongside her now—her savoring those last pieces of gum, myself savoring each application.