I love it when I go to a garage sale and stumble across a dusty box of antique avon perfume bottles. Whiskey colored glass, shaped like rocking horses, high heel shoes, busts of George Washington. The plastic lid always reminds me of that 70's plastic the old barbie cars were made out of. You can just smell the antiquity in the flimsiness of that kind of plastic.
But what I love most about those old avon bottles is that when I take off the lid and get a whiff of that ancient perfume, no matter which scent it is, it somehow reminds me of my great grandmother.
I found a bottle of avon lotion today. Not quite so old, but it was one of the scents that were popular back when the perfume was bottled so uniquely. It made me miss her. It made me miss sitting in the living room floor of her trailer, sipping a diet sprite (because that's all she drank), and watching episode 1 of Star Wars on vhs. Or sitting quietly on the arm of her recliner while she stroked my hair and told me how beautiful I was.
And then I thought of Jerry and how he used to always ask me if I'd been to a garage sale lately. I'd say yes, knowing what his reply would be. He'd always ask how much I'd bought the garage for. At 9 years old, I'd explain to him that I was outbid and that the garage wasn't in that great of shape anyway and watch his laugh lines gather around his glittering eyes.
I miss Popeye, the lunatic parrot that Jerry would yell at when he got angry at the world. Popeye always yelled right back, much like the world does.
There's just a tiny ache in my heart for those days.
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