Even in my own bed in the city I was born in, I find myself homesick often. I feel displaced from other times, people I don’t see anymore.
Memories have smells, did you know that?
Here is the smell of winter blankets.
Here is the smell of surfspray.
Here is the smell of familiar footsteps walking past my bedroom door at night.
Here is the smell whiskey beard.
Here is the smell of clean t-shirts.
Here is the smell of roasting garlic.
Here is the smell of scratch-made pancakes.
Here is the smell of a basement dance party in the summer.
Here is the smell of the summer breeze through your lover’s hair riding in your lap in the backseat of a car overflowing with band equipment.
Here is the smell of the back of their neck the first time you cradled someone to sleep.
Here is the faint smell of cedar in flannel.
Here is the smell of Dr. Bronner’s soap on clean skin hours after a shower.
Here is the smell of baby powder in another person’s armpit.
Here is the smell of a suddenly-empty room on New Years morning.
Here is the smell of cold air in your clothing when you kicked your boots on the doorjamb and unwrapped the scarf from your neck.
Here is the smell of a particular campfire.
Here is the smell of pre-rain.
Here is the smell of post-rain on hot bricks and concrete in the summer ghettoes of your youth.
Here is the smell of post-rain on wild prairie grasses blowing in through your open screendoor.
Here is the smell of the forest floor.
Here is the smell of river rocks.
Here is the smell of your sleeping t-shirt after a one-night-stand with the person you still love.
Here is the smell of your best friend’s car.
Here is the smell of old book paper.
Here is the smell of leather.
Here is the smell of a freshly opened bag of pipe tobacco.
Here is the smell of fresh coffee on the most deserving morning of your life.
Here is the smell of the wind through the open window in a different city than the one you fell asleep in.
Here is the smell of your own pillow in your own bed in your own home.
Here is the smell of your own pillow in your own bed in someone else’s home.

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