The smells of life

 I will never forget certain scents that were all a part of who I am. The smell of mom's perfume is my first smell and will probably be my last as she guides me to the heavens. The smell of Dad's pipe and the sweet smell of captian black tobacco.A smell that has sometimes lingered in my room.The smell of clothes drying on a backyard clothesline, sun-drenched with the scent of lemons.The smell of fresh cut grass and burning pine from a campfire. The smells of the mountains are a smorgasbord of scents, like wet moss, dying leaves, wildflowers, and hidden patches of homegrown herbs. The scent of sweat in the forest, disguised with patchouli oil, spread across the land like wildfire. The smell of a new album and the smell of electricity coming from a group of hopeful songwriters.

The smell of gasoline and motor oil dripping from my Harley, and the scents of the roadside that passed by too quickly as I rode through them, too fast to notice. The smell of a greasy 24-hour diner, with smells on a plate that turned into smiles.Bacon and eggs, pancakes with smily faces and coffee brewed just right. Ashtrays overflowing with burned-out butts and a handful of scented mints from a bowl at the checkout counter. The unforgettable smell of new leather and fringed jackets.
The smells of the ocean and a warship that took me to far-away places. The smell of jet fuel and paint. Waiting in line for a tray full of what I'm not sure of, but soon learned that powdered eggs have no smell. The countries I traveled to, each with its own unique smell. A sidewalk cafe in France that smelled of warm biscuits, opened bottles of wine, and blocks of cheese. Spain with smells of bullfights and scooters everywhere, leaving behind clouds of exhaust. Greece that smelled like centuries ago, the aromas of carefully prepared foods, the scents pouring through windows with no glass.
For four years, I traveled the globe and experienced countless smells of cultures trying to hang on to the old ways. Some places in the Middle East had a smell all their own, a combination of smells that had been around for generations.  I was amazed by the scent of moisture from tropical forests and by the sheer number of different scents in just one place.
Growing old now, my sense of smell has all but left me. Guess I used my nose to the point of being used up. But the strange thing is I may not smell things like I once did, but I can call upon a memory any time to relive the smells of children playing and laundry drying. I can smell the inside of the ice cream truck as lawn sprinklers shoot out well water that smells like rotten eggs. I can smell my wife's perfume and kids with mouthfuls of captian crunch. I can smell the chocolates in a heart-shaped Valentine before it's opened, and when I feel the need to be alone, I go to an empty church and smell the incense and candles slowly wafting into my nose, giving me a sense of calm and quiet reflections of scents I hold close to my heart.

Mike  2026