smoking kills
recently, I've had a certain memory of my mom pop up in my head: "I don't have an addictive personality, you know." I can't provide context because she's said this multiple times, and never in a really significant way, just something in passing. I always found it slightly odd because it was already obvious to me: my mom has always been a rule follower and when I saw her drink, she'd always limit herself. this is in stark contrast to my dad and they've always balanced each other out in that way. so whenever she'd bring it up I had no reason to doubt her. now, though, it can't be further from the truth. I keep thinking about it because of how ironic it is.
it's been a year, I'd guess. a year since she picked it up: I can only assume again, because it's been a habit that runs deep in the family. I remember a line I wrote in my journal once: reunions always smell fondly of smoke and perfume. I never really thought much about my mom leaving restaurants early to 'get a head start home' or kicking my brother and i out the car to 'look for parking', because why would I think anything? but I'd come home and walk through the lingering air of smoke and perfume. perfume and smoke. and it'd be evidence, right under my nose. It wasn't a flooring observation but instead became a sort of inside joke between me and my brother. mom's smoking again !!!!!! after awhile, though, the joke became tired as it became a multiple-times-a-day thing. at family BBQ I saw her join the group of regular smoking aunties. it wasn't a bad change, just a change. Again, my mom has always been a rule follower so there was a disconnect in my brain seeing her with a crowd I haven't seen before.
Marlboro gold. that's her brand—light cigarettes, yellow & white packaging. I know this because i've seen the boxes, at the top of trash cans, hidden in the glove compartment, peeking out of my mom's handbag, lying on the backyard table. I know this because i've stolen a couple and tried them for myself. I don't like them, but she apparently really does, and so does her best friend. a new addition into her life (a new friend, a new addiction/habit). apparently they're old work friends. she's very sweet. and she loves Marlboro golds too, as I saw when I closed the trunk of her car after a Costco trip she went on with my mom. on top of the pile was a truly Costco (read: very big) quantity of cigarette packs I can only assume some of which were going to my mom. her best friend is a fantastic cook and a fun conversationalist but I only associate her with my mom's smoking habit. when she's at our house, when my mom's at her house. even when they're not physically together; I notice my mom doubles her phone calls with her friend as also her smoke break. when she thinks I'm asleep I hear the faint shhhk of the backyard door opening so she can sit on the bench and smoke and gossip.
there are more instances and i collect them like gold nuggets and write them down. because to me it's a game that, unbeknownst to her, she is the center of. the reason I pay so close attention to her is because she tries so hard to conceal her smoking. opening the glove compartment next to her she quickly shuffled a towel over the pack of cigarettes. quickly asking me to dispose of the trash that contains old boxes. asking me specifically how long I'll be in the basement for, so (I'm, assuming but) that she can gauge how long she has to go on a 'walk' and smoke. she knows I know, she knows everyone in my family knows. I think I noticed it for a while before she noticed that we noticed but she's slipped up enough where it's obvious to both of us now. thus the genesis of my secret game. for example, I'll intentionally come home quietly instead of calling out when I open the door. this has granted me a couple times to peek out the back windows and see the trail of smoke. other times it's serendipitous, like her accidentally leaving her ashtray out. (it's glass, like a crystal). I think it's so amusing because it's so juvenile to me. who is she hiding from? she is decades older than me, and I am in no position to 'punish' or speak back to her. it is clear to me, then, that it comes from shame. she was the one, after all, to teach me that she didn't have an addictive personality, that she didn't hang out with the regular smokers of my family. now I know but she doesn't want to give up the image in front of me.
i wrote this at the beginning of my french class and the bell just rung. I have more to say, but that's for another post.