hana*

We never really met, and I didn't even know much about her (what she really looked like will forever remain a mystery to me), but this left a gaping hole in my heart today:

She never sounded like she had a terrible illness. She was always so cheerful and warm... and her creations never reflected her pain.

In my mind I saw her as a delicate/fragile, homey, loving mom. The kind who baked Hokkaido cakes for her kids after school, made fresh orange juice every morning, wrote love notes in their school notebooks. The wife who decorated their home in shades of mint and roses, with little details and delicate knickknacks. The woman who had a taste for fleeting moments and airy fabrics, soft textures and warm feelings.

I would never truly know her now, but she took a part of me away.