Sunday, May 5
If I Told You It Smelled Like Memories In A Good Way, Would You Know What I Mean?
I have taken many things for granted in my life. The smell of my home is one of them. The place where I grew up... it smells like childhood.
It smells fresh. Like flowers in the spring, and clean laundry and air, if that makes sense. It smells comfortable. Like walking out of the stuffy office and into the outdoors. Like you didn't realize how badly it smelt before, until you realized what it could smell like.
It feels comfortable. Like taking off tight shoes that you didn't realize were hurting your feet until you untied them. It feels calm. amidst the craziness that goes on within these walls, it feels eerily calm. Like nothing could hurt you here.
Don't misunderstand me. Home has hurt. But it was gentle in its hurting. It was comforting me as I screamed.
It's the colour of these walls that bring me back to a time when I didn't know what I had. This home thing that is so difficult to recreate elsewhere. So difficult to attain in the instability of your early twenties.
I can't get over how good you smell.