Lightnin Strangers (freewrite)

My momma's hair always had that wonderful smell of outsiderness. It's not an actual word, no, but you must be familiar with the smell. That beautiful, airy, distant scent that wound linger in her hair for hours after she came home. I always liked to hug her tight when she walked through the door , just so I could get a whiff of that smell.
When I grew up, I was surprised to find that very same scent in my own hair, after a whole day spent outside and I couldn't understand, was I becoming like her? Or was the smell not so special, after all?
Because it never occurred to me, as a child that every woman might have that same smell in her hair.

I must've spent more than an hour sniffing my hair and remembering lost thoughts of my childhood. And as I allowed the cloud of hair to envelop my face, I felt myself surrounded and alone. I could no longer see the escape to the present.
The only thing I could see were doors and walls and screams and laughters and toys and lessons and and and
No, stop.
I can't do this anymore.
The smell is driving me insane with the memories of long ago. Hands, people, all angels.
I wasn't worried at first. There were signs, but I ignored them. It's very easy to ignore something when you really want to.
I closed my eyes to the fact that the images in my mind were growing hazy, that I looked and didn't know...things.
But then, one day, I came home and found another pair of shoes at the door. Man's shoes. I drew myself to the wall and my hand reached for the lock. I had been stupid and now I was alone with this intruder.
He came at me from the kitchen, speaking these foreign words which I couldn't hear because I was screaming so loud and so close.

He doesn't have long. Soon, it will be nine thirty and nine thirty is the hour for bath. It's a Tuesday, which means he'll wash her hair as well. He always slathers coconut shampoo in her hair and everything smells lovely and he asks 'Susan, doesn't it smell lovely in here?'
And his wife doesn't reply, but sometimes he pretends she does.
The sad truth is she forgot about him one day. And about herself, a few days after that. And he doesn't know how or why. He cries himself to sleep, some nights, 'cause he wishes he could help.
She looks the same,but it feels as if he were living with a stranger.

Freewrite prompt 'coconut', suggested by @mariannewest. Check out her blog for more!

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