Breathe

Certain smells make me gag, but up until today, I didn't realize that it's generally fragrances that turn me off. Like certain fabric conditioners, some perfumes, shampoos and lotions, even flowers. I do wear scents but I like them clean and very, very faint. With laundry, I like them to smell as they should: like detergent. Not like a garden in full bloom, or the ocean breeze, or a baby's bottom peppered with talc.

But there are smells that leave me giddy with pleasure.

I love the smell of cigarettes on my husband's hands, and the mild odor of smoke as he leans closer for a kiss. I love the smell of his neck, right below the ear, when it's devoid of artificial fragrance. Even healthy sweat is wonderful--- warm and comforting. I love to catch the breath that hovers above his upper lip, vanishing momentarily to marry with the atmosphere, then rolling out once more like a lazy drawl. I love the smell of him, where the chest muscle curves to his shoulder--- masculine but surprisingly gentle in its subtlety.

I hitch my pleasant memories to smells. Though in real life they are evanescent, in remembrance they do not fade.