Rewriting the ending

HERE’S a strong sensory memory of our mother: T the combined smells of Chanel No.5, cigarette smoke and Nescafé Blend 43. She was really emotionally intelligent, with a very gentle nature. She was wise and nonreactive, and her special power was always knowing exactly what to say to diffuse a situation, like applying balm to an inflamed area. Maybe it was her piercing blue eyes or her calming presence, but she had this way about her that made people want to disclose everything to her.

As our mother, she was endlessly tolerant of our attempts at lounge-room stardom, where she’d watch countless songs, dances and plays — all while doing a very convincing job of looking entertained. She would make things like Christmas really magical. She’d throw rocks onto the roof on Christmas Eve, and we were too scared to check if it actually was reindeer landing on the roof. In the morning we would shout, “, Santa’s been!” and she would sound so surprised: “Oh my goodness, I can’t believe it!”