The Smell of a Place
I was at my parents’ house earlier, on their deck, eating brunch with my family. I haven’t been inside their house, the one I grew up in, since early March.
At one point I pressed my face up to the screen door to look inside. I smelled the same house smell that I had grown up with, the cleaner from the floor, the air freshener, the smell of the furniture. I peered into the same living room where I snuck in alcohol with my high school friends.
For a moment, my past-life came rushing back into full view. And I took a deep sigh.