Spring fever

I’m constantly amazed by the power of smell. Walking down the street, I’ll catch a whiff of a particular odor and it will call up the most vivid memories of things I’ve completely forgotten about. The elevator in my grandmother’s old apartment building, my childhood blanky, the bread sticks my daycare center served at snack time. There’s a particular scent of Secret deodorant that calls up a week-long crew trip to Canadian Henley the summer after my sophomore year in college. I can’t put a finger on what Scully’s fur actually smells like, but I know it will always be the scent of home.

Today I was in the cafeteria line with Lunchboy and I caught the faint smell of his deodorant. My stomach bottomed out—it’s one of the smells I remember so clearly from when we first met almost a year ago.. I wanted to kiss him right then but there were about five of our coworkers in the room and it seemed like an imprudent thing to do. What a stupid thing, the smell of his deodorant. Love makes us all fools, but sometimes being a fool feels (and smells) really good.