I AM NOT THANKFUL FOR MY NOSE
Ordinarily, I don’t give much thought to the blob of bone and cartilage that sits on my face and keeps my glasses from falling into my mouth.
Today, however I am thinking solely about my nose and it’s not because I have a cold and it’s stuffy. Nor is it running like a faucet in allergy season when I have to stuff each nostril with little rolled up wads of toilet paper. Neither am I being exposed to a repugnant diaper. It is not sunburned and peeling and no I do not have a red, shiny, bulgy pimple hanging onto the tip of it.
I am sitting in church beside my beautiful, sweet six-year-old granddaughter and she reeks. To make things worse I have a scratchy throat and every breath I take is like scraping sandpaper over a sunburn.
“Sweetie don’t you want to go and sit beside your mommy?”
She snuggles closer to me. “Nope, I want to sit by you Grandma.”
The child hates me. “My don’t you smell nice.” I lied
She beamed her adoring eyes into mine and smiled. “It’s my perfume.”
“Did you take a bath in it?”
“No.” she giggled. “My mommy just put some on me.”
I wanted to put some poison in Mommy’s lunch.
Now I know where road kill goes when it dies.
“Do you want some perfume Grandma?” She started to open her little purse.
Oh no darling. I have some but Great Grandma doesn’t. Go sit by her. I know she’d love some.”
Great Grandma couldn’t smell a dead skunk if it was tied around her neck. Growing older had some perks after all. Besides, most of her friends were old and would probably still sit beside her no matter how she smelled.
They better because after this meeting I'm finding a chair on the other side of the room and opening the window.