Patchouly

 Sitting on a bar stool alone with my thoughts, I was brought back to reality by the smell of Patchouly. It's been a while since I smelled that scent and even longer since I would drown myself in it. I remember back in the 70s, nine out of ten so-called hippies smelled like that magic oil. During those years, I was a free spirit who grew my hair and wore tie-dyed t-shirts. I had a fringed jacket and a small bottle of Patchouly in my pocket. My jeans were hardly ever washed, and showers were few, so every so often, a dash of the magic oil was dabbed on, and all was good.

As I scanned the bar, my eyes stopped on a lady sitting alone in a booth, and I knew I had to meet her. As I approached her, she smiled and softly said, "Yes, it's Patchouly." She wore a free-flowing dress with dozens of bracelets. Her long silver hair shone like moonlight, and her skin was tanned by many the summer suns.

She asked me to sit, asking the waitress for another glass. "How about a glass of Boons Farm?" she asked. "Goofy grape?" I asked. Strawberry Hill, she replied. We finished that bottle, and I felt like I was in a time warp, that all those years behind me had resurfaced right here in the booth.

I can picture you, she said, with long hair, tie-dyed shirts, probably jeans that needed washing, and, of course, a small bottle of patchouli tucked away in a pocket. Am I right? She asked. You are, I replied. And what about you? I began. I bet you live in a cottage with a beautiful garden tucked away in the woods, with the birds singing and the small creatures coming to you without fear. You make candles with the scent of lilacs, jasmine, and Patchouly that you sell at the farmers market. Am I right? I asked.

She said we're a dying breed. Many free spirits have left this earth, and those remaining try hard to hold onto the lifestyle we so loved. Homemade tye-dyed shirts and living in the woods all summer have been replaced with weekend trips to the markets and roadside stands where they point and laugh at the likes of me. But they have money to spend, so I smile and wish them peace.

We sat in that booth until closing, afraid this could be the last time we felt full again. Our memories of those happy times would someday leave us as we went our separate ways, leaving behind empty bottles of Boons Farm and the lingering smell of Patchouly.

Mike 2025