Like Teen Spirit
I smell everything too much. My nostrils have limbs and every room, every person, every thing has a smell that I can’t seem to miss. The strongest of associates, smell resurrects memory. Light and heavy, there is no choosing what will be brought back to life.
Palmolive smells like being 9 again. It smells like standing next to my Grandma on a thick mahogany chair that’s been scooted from across the kitchen and parked next to the sink. Like helping clean dishes after dinner. Palmolive reminds me of her and what it feels like to wear the jacket of safety. The soap lends itself to an awareness of how good my Grandma loved. How she covered her love with bigness and boldness and some kind of fire that I can’t explain. Her grace made the room dance with honest living. And so, smelling the soap gives me a moment to stare down my dreams and refuse to walk away. Green soap on a plate smells like her reading all my stories and telling me to never stop writing. It smells like growing up and not losing heart.
Mint shampoo smells like being 19 and moving across the country. Like sharing a dorm room with a stranger. It smells like walking slowly and lying on the grass in late afternoon. Like wandering around a foreign campus with the perfect amount of hope and uncertainty. The smell of mint shampoo makes me think about what it looks like to love God with your mind. It makes me think about never skipping out on life because you’re scared of not getting it right. It triggers the memory that fights the moments that feel like death and hint at the lie of forever. I associate the shampoo and the context and I remember that I’m never going to break. I’m never going to lose my way too much, because at the end of the day I’ll hear the truth of who I am.
Pall Mall’s smell like being 21 and in love with everything but the smell of smoke on my clothes. Like late night conversation and kisses on the forehead. The drifting smoke speaks of youth and saying all the words that scare you. It reminds me of being reckless with grace. The smell is strong like cancer and Kurt Vonnegut sentences. Strong like not giving up, but walking away when it’s time and counting your losses. It smells like listening to the sound of your own knowing voice. It also smells like believing that life is better when lived alongside others; it’s better than books and boredom and being alone too much.
All of this because of soap and shampoo and cigarettes. All of this because the mind and the heart are more powerful than ten million moons.
