Of scents

ever smelled the scent of a fallen pine cone next to the river bank on a dewy day....through oil on canvas? she could...she could smell the mossy air, the birds chirping somewhere high above the ground, and the smell of wild flowers blooming beneath her feet...the smell of the wet earth rising to greet her nostrils.

she loved smelling things....scents fascinated her....even as a child, she always wanted to smell before she touched or tasted. from the keys of the white galant to the smell of spices coming from the kitchen, or the smell of new paint on the chairs on the first day of class in kindergarten...it was a curiousity that manifested itself at a very early age...the smell of a lake surrounded by mountains, the scent of a lazy cat sleeping on your stomach, of those crayola crayons and markers, the faint smell of cigarette smoke and soap from her grandfather...so many scents, floating around her head. they say that scent is the strongest sense tied to memory...and that's what she most vivdly remembered. the smell of a new house...new halls in a new school...old clothes...re-discovered small perfume bottles that had rolled under the dressing table that brought back eras with a single wiff...an old wooden cabinet that had been shut for years...the scent of her mother's skin when she would lie on her chest and listen to her heart beating...the smell from her father's closet..the cologne he always used...it wasn't a faint scent, but rather a tidal wave of memories washing upon the banks of her consciousness. the pine tree underneath which she and her sister found a yellow-green caterpillar and made a house for it in an empty plastic chocolate box...how the garden smelled after it rained...wet smells, dry smells, spicy smells, old smells, new smells, happy smells, sad smells, smells of "i can't believe i used to wear that and look like that and listen to that music"...smells we miss, that come back to us out of no where, and hit us like no force has hit us ever before...good smells, bad smells...the lingering smell of alcohol on his breath when he was yelling...the smell of blood when she cut herself...the smell of her sister's tears...the tingling feeling in her own nose when she's about to cry...the smell of his neck when he kissed her...the smell he left behind on her bed sheets...the smell of a warm day that's carried within a cool breeze...

she remembers it all...there's no need to bottle this scent...because it's here, and there, and everywhere around her...

she opens her eyes and smiles at the painting.