Today's Writing Prompt: Smell
Write about a memory you have that centers around a particular smell.
Whenever I walk past a tobacco shop in the mall, I stop and inhale deeply. I’m not into smoking; I’m not into cigarettes or stinky cigars. I am, after all, a product of the Just-Say-No Generation. But I do like the smell of smoking tobacco.
When I was small, preschool age at most, my daddy smoked tobacco pipes. I was young enough that I have no memories of him actually using a pipe. However, the smell of tobacco always reminds me of him and of those glorious days of innocence and trust and magic, when all the world was always still good and beautiful.
My family had a set of bookshelves when I was young, and there was a cabinet in the middle of them that opened into a sort of small writing desk. We never actually used it as a desk, but that’s where Daddy’s pipes were stored on their wood and green velvet rack. I loved opening that door on its reluctant hinges because the faint perfume of the tobacco wafted out.
Then, as if I didn’t have my dad on a high enough pedestal yet, when I was maybe 6, I got stung by a bee, and I remember how wonderful it felt to have some of that tobacco patted all over the sting. Mostly, though, I remember how wonderful I thought–and still do—my daddy was!
Thanks to The One-Minute Writer for this prompt.
