Softie
I’ve had a tiny package of Kleenex in my purse since December, when I was sick while home for Christmas. My mom gave them to me for the plane ride back to New York. I just used the last one, and throwing the wrapper away made me sad, because whenever I saw it, it reminded me of the pantry where it came from in my parents’ kitchen, which is probably the coziest place I can think of on a cold and rainy New York day.
My mom doesn’t think I ever sentimentalize things like this about her, but I do.