an Open Letter to Mother Mothball

You haven't seen me in a while, and quite frankly i'm grateful. We 1st encountered each other last march when i needed to be in work by 6:30 and working 12 hour days. the buses ran differently, back then, and almost everyone would have a seat to themselves (since it was the ass crack of the morning and all). i'd see you, got up like a sassy coed in your varsity jacket, shoosh-shoosh track pants and pigtails. point of fact: it was your pig tails that 1st caught my eye.

see, i'd never seen a 70 year old woman with pigtails before and it disturbed me...it still disturbs me . the next thing i noticed was the smell: mothballs. actually, i think it took me several days of sitting behind/near you to realize that the musty basement/eau d'grandma scent was coming from you. i don't know why i was surprised...but i was. perhaps your vintage varsity jacket was the genuine article, perhaps your pants were made from real WWII parachutes, i have no idea. over the next few months, it was all i could do to avoid sitting near you or standing behind you while waiting to disembark, as the scent made my eyes tear and my throat close up. luckily, work got easier and i was able to take the next bus, and have been, till this week.

imagine my surprise to find that you still take the "early" bus, still wear your band-aid colored hair in pigtails and still reek of an old cellar. the schedule may have changed, buy you remain the same. it was like a visit from that hairy lipped, halitosis wielding aunt that you only see at weddings and funerals. my defenses kicked in and again, i gave you a wide berth. sadly with the change in Atlantic Express' schedule, the bus has been packed and somebody is always forced to share a seat with you. luckily, that someone hasn't been me.

anyway, i go back to my regular schedule tomorrow and probably won't see you for a while...hopefully...but wanted you to know that everytime i go into a thrift store, used clothing shop or hardware store and catch a whiff of naphthalene or camphor, i'll gag, wipe my eyes and think of you...