My children each carry a distinct aura. I can pick out their gait as they walk. There is something about their touch when I cannot see. When a child walks out, I can still smell them. An aura leaves a trail fading over time but never quite gone. Caleb is no longer here but so much of his aura remains.
My office in the basement gets cold. Sometimes I have to layer clothing to get warm in there. Caleb has an oversized sweater, so frumpy and so ugly with multicolor stripes. He loves frumpy sweaters and hoodies. When I put it on I feel him near. It has his smell. Even though washed, the smell remains. A hint of the essence of a smell which no one else might notice. I think I smell his aura. I smell the memory of him. The sweater is functional by warming my body, but it also warms my heart just a little. The weight of the sweater on my shoulders lifts a little of the weight on my shoulders caused by his absence.
He would pace by this spot, over and over. Each time by the odor would intensify; slightly sweet with a hint of cinnamon. Was this why he loved apple pie over any other? The holidays will be hard and part of the reason is apple pie. He preferred it by far; no pumpkin, little fudge, cake only if no hope of apple pie coming. Every time I am near an apple pie my heart breaks a little more. Losing this favorite dessert is yet another secondary loss.
I need Caleb here but his aura is all that remains. Until I see him again, it must suffice.