The Power of Scent

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It’s 10am on a summer Saturday. The smell of freshly cut grass.

The smell of damp earth, freshly peeled bark, sweat.

And then the sound of two girls giggling. Their breath catching, their exclamations exuberant as they run full force and heave their bodies into the grass, legs in the air like ninjas, watching each other with a knowing glance as they shout, “Hi-YAH!”

They fall to the earth, laughing, rolling on the ground, feeling the itchy grass beneath them and the warmth of the Southern summer sun. They turn towards each other, eyes dancing with joy, sharing the togetherness of this moment.

Always turning toward each other.

….

It’s 3pm on a Thursday. The smell of leaves, of bark, of moss and dirt.

Tiny twigs snap beneath my feet. The ground crunches and cracks as my shoes press against the earth.

This is the place where you are, where I know you live, where I know you felt most at home.

This is the place that was taken from you, long before you were taken from this earth, as your body could never recover, as the hole in your brain remained the gap that could never be closed, as these long hikes and respites in nature became little more than memories of a life you once lived.

I walk these paths now, looking for you. Feeling for you.

These trees know your name.

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