Petrichor lingers in the air long after the rain has ceased, the clouds have parted, and the thunderous applause has calmed. The opening line of Spring being accompanied by the sweet smell of Honeysuckle. The unique aroma that accompanies old books in the forgotten wing of the Public Library as you navigate your way through the card catalog to find that one book you’ll need to finish your report for third period English.
The stale tobacco fragrance that wafts in through the backdoor as mother retires to the back porch for a Virginia Slim. The smell of burning rubber after a 2-car collision at the intersection between the grocery store and the car wash. The chlorine and piss at the public pool, amplified in the Summer heat. The baked cinnamon-and-sugar sweetness on that special Saturday that your father decides to make a batch of Coffee Cake.
The first honey bun of the day as you attempt to wake up for first period study hall and you’ve spent half your lunch money on morning snacks. The stench of sweat and body odor as your class makes the rounds on the basketball court doing laps for a class that ultimately doesn’t matter.
The smell of the beach and sea-water in Florida, on vacation with your family. The smell of your grandmother’s house, always a mixture of decay and peanut butter cookies and remnants of fudge in tin containers stacked around the house. The smell of the cleaning chemicals and sickness at the hospital.
The unmistakable stench of death as the bloated and fly ridden body of an animal carcass comes into view. The smell of your own urine as you lay dying in the hospital waiting room and the world pinpoints into nothingness and none of this mattered and every decision you’ve ever made ceases to be important because right here, right now, is all that is, ever was, and forever will be.
The smell of fresh coffee as I attempt to awake from the previous night’s rest. The smell of my own body, aging, as I lose more and more precious time on this planet doing insignificant things that amount to nonexistent nothings in an attempt to become even more unimportant than I was yesterday.
And then smelling all of those things, again, for the first time. Truly a treat to look forward to.