Memory

Drifting along with the air, changing direction several times a second, swept on by the irresistible momentum of the invisible wind, the smell is indescribable;

It pulls me back to so many years ago.

To my right is a broken down garage, the back side converted to a chicken coop. Beyond that, toward the East, is an old barn in nearly as bad of condition. To my left is a one-story rambler, North of me spreading out to a strange shape from all the additions made over the years.

To the true East, a garden lies tilled from North to South, lining a forest. To the West is a field where the neighbor boys play baseball, football, soccer, and nearly every other sport on Saturdays. The sun is bright directly overhead heating the pool, which is placed in the only spot where sun shines nearly all day without shade or obstruction, 10 feet in front of me to my left.

Directly in front of me is the tree - its trunk merely 3 feet around, but rising in a single form well over 25 feet before branching out. It is October, and the leaves have long since fallen, but the branches maintain a strange stick-like shape with pollenated spheres. They are about 4 inches long, with 4-5 spheres apiece, roughly 2mm in diameter.

The smell emitted from each sphere is not identifiable by any other comparable smell, for such does not exist. It is truly unique and, quite honestly, not extremely pleasant. I have often wished this tree did not grow just outside the window of my bedroom, but it continues to grow there throughout the 13 years I live here. I am 14, staring up at the tree - its become normal, friendly, though still not a good smell. The tree looks barren, but I have so many good memories of the times there, yes, it is friendly.

Nearly 12 years later, now exiting my store and strolling across the parking lot, the smell blows its way to me again through the time and ages, bringing back with it the memories of the old house and life.

I am glad to remember, and I enjoy the smell; I walk slowly and remember. Always remember.