Today’s prompt focuses on the senses, particularly how certain smells connect with your grief
Dad,
It’s a Saturday morning, not too early. I’ve started the kettle to heat water for coffee. In the meantime I make my way to my desk, by the window, you remember. I’m sitting down and the movement in the air catches it all just right. Swirling past your old hat that’s hanging from my shelf. It smacks me in the face. For a moment it almost stings, but it’s just the shock. And in that moment I can feel my body let go and sink into the moment just a little, like sinking into a hug.
It smells like fresh air, pine bows, sweet sweat, wood smoke, and dirt. Sometimes I even think I can smell the minty smell from the tobacco that you used to chew. It makes me happy… you always smelled like you. Which isn’t as common as it sounds. You never really smelled strongly of any artificial shit. Maybe a little Old Spice classic when you had a girlfriend or wanted to impress someone. You were always an arm and hammer, simple as Fuck kinda guy.
Those moments do make me miss you. I miss your hugs most of all.
Coffee & Conundrums 