You stinky!


Rojo, who refuses to write, told me a story about one of his break ups. The interesting part of the story wasn’t what happened between them, it was his ability to physically smell the change in her. Turns out when she laid it down, all he could think of was that she smelled like band-aids. I say, “she’s stinky – good riddance”. Rojo has super ninja smelling power. He usually greets me by smelling me first. Sometimes I feel like a couple of dogs sniffing but, but other times it’s not so bad.

Regardless, I started thinking today about all the smells in my life and the people associated with those smells. It’s a power stimulus capable of bringing on deep emotions in me, yet the smells are pretty simple.

The smell of honeysuckle reminds me of my childhood friend that lived across the street. She’s my oldest friend, and one of my closest friends as well. When I first went off to college, I felt overwhelmed by all the people there. I had a difficult time making friends, and one particular day I was struggling up the steps to the library when the breeze caught a honeysuckle bush. As I trudged up the stairs feeling sorry for myself, I got a hint of the sweet smell. Immediately I felt better, and realized my friends are with me no matter where I go in this world. I still felt lonely occasionally, but it allowed me to get over my little tragedy and I started making friends.

The smell of wintergreen mints reminds me of Pearl. I was miserable when I moved back to Houston to be with my hubby-to-be. (Should he be my x-to be?) I thought the people were materialistic and pompous. I started working with the hubby for a lot of reasons, but one of the reasons due to a beautiful woman he worked with. I couldn’t have that competition, so I weaseled my way into the office. I developed an instant crush on Pearl and spent countless hours in her office eating mints and talking about how neurotic everyone was. She made living in Houston bearable, and she changed the way I look at the world. I learned to tell my friends how much I love them because of her.

The smell of smoke reminds me of Miss Krissy. She would probably hate that, but it’s true. After I kicked the habit for 2 years, I went out with her and saw the error of my ways. It reminds me of long talks over countless drinks and laughing until you pee yourself. I think back on our college days and our reckless ways with everything that wander into our patch. Life is always an adventure with her; she keeps me young. No wonder I’m having a hard time giving it up.

Sandalwood reminds me of spending all day in bed with one of my old lovers. We’d lay there and listen to Miles Davis and talk for hours. He had beautiful long black curly hair, and I loved the way he would put his head on my chest. I would play with his hair and breathe in the incense longing to never leave the comfort of his bed. (Then it turned out he was gay, so I left his bed)

There are a million of these memories stirred up by a scent. Cigars and my grandfather, vodka and my mom, lilies and the day I got engaged. They fill me up with laughter, and sometime tears. They remind me that my past is always with me. What about you?