Somewhere in my travels, I came across this small blue bottle. At the time, I just liked the shape and the size and the color.
But now, I think, it reminds me a little bit of the jar of Vick’s Vapor rub that my mother used to rub on my chest when I had a cold.
The shape is different and the color isn’t exact. But stripped all identification (it was that way when I bought it) it looks like it might have come from an apothecary shop, maybe 100 years ago or so.
It belonged to someone once. It’s doubtful that this bottle was loved. I certainly didn’t love that jar of Vick’s Vapor Rub. But I loved the ceremony, the ritual. And the tucking in that followed. No matter how bad I felt, the healing had begun.