This photo is full of complex feelings for me. I initially chose it because I treasure the quiet moments I can grab with Lilith when we’re both sitting on the couch reading together. She’s a tween and can be difficult to pin down; since the shelter in place hit, she’s often either locked in the bathroom putting on horror makeup or up in her room doing Tween Things. When I was drafting the scent, I tried to remember what she was reading in this photo. I think it was Matilda by Roald Dahl, which is not only one of her favorite books, but also her absolute favorite musical. She first saw it in London, then New York, and then the traveling production in Los Angeles. The first time she saw it she was so excited when everyone was taking a bow that she darted out of her seat and down the aisle towards the performers. I swear, I thought she was going to run on stage for a moment, but she just wanted to get closer to give them a standing ovation.

I was a little older than Lilith is now when Matilda was published – 8th or 9th grade? – so I didn’t read it until we were reading it to Lilith. I hadn’t thought this passage had struck me all that hard until I thought about it now, during plague time, and then it slammed me straight in the heart: “So Matilda’s strong young mind continued to grow, nurtured by the voices of all those authors who had sent their books out into the world like ships on the sea. These books gave Matilda a hopeful and comforting message: You are not alone.”

2020 has been a terrifying, terrible year, and I think one of the most painful of the underlying currents for all of us all over the world is the loneliness-the separation from your friends, your loved ones, your community. Being able to see and hear, but not touch. I cannot imagine how the loneliness of this year is going to shape Generation Z, kids who have already lived their whole lives with the spectre of the catastrophes of gun violence and climate change hanging over their heads. I worry for my child. I worry for all of us.

Hope will prevail, though, and if you reach out, there will be a (virtual) hand that will lift you up. We can find comfort in one another, and we can reach out towards the story-built ships in this dark, uncertain sea: you are not alone. Stories weave who we are; stories are a light in the darkness; stories are a comfort in our grief and fear and sorrow. It seems so right that the first book that Lilith sat down to reread when the plague hit was Matilda; these books gave Lilith a hopeful and comforting message: You are not alone.

A dribble of lavender oil running along the cracked spine of a well-loved mass market paperback enveloped in a snuggly oversized hoodie.