Greta Schmidt
My mother's hands smelled of soap and flour, sometimes of the garden — of earth and herbs. When she tucked me in at night, her scent stayed on the pillow.
◆ A recognition
They never met.
They shared this.
Tell me something about your mother's hands. The smell, the shape, what they did.
Margaret Thompson
My mother's hands smelled of soap and flour. They were always busy — bread, washing, mending. When she tucked me in, her hands smelled of lavender water.
Two voices. One memory. Recorded 0 days apart.