"Beauty amongst the weeds"

I remember, as a very small child, the torturous trips to Adelaide.
Trapped inside a small vehicle with two parents that smoked non stop.
The 5 hour journey, feeling hot, tired and grumpy.
The screaming and yelling, mainly my mother. That I still hear to this day.

Dad used his fists.

The feeling of relief, when I could see the fields of purple (depending on time of year of course). The 'purple' signaled we were almost there, it meant peace, soon, I would be out of this car, and close to a woman who loved me no matter what.

My Great Aunt was a beautiful soul, she spoke little English, but there is no language required when speaking the language of 'love'.

I have a necklace and ring that once belonged to her, I clearly remember when she gave them to me. It used to smell like her, it has been held tight and sniffed, with a beautiful warm feeling. I think over time I have inhaled all her smell, drank it with my lungs, long lost its scent, instant happiness.

For Christmas, I would like a bottle of her "scent", so when I find myself in a place that is dark and futile, nepenthe.

Childhood memories, not sure why I am being bombarded of late, also dreaming a lot about heart operations. What to do, what to do...........

There is always "beauty amongst the weeds"...........