These smells are all at once but it takes moments of memories to separate them out - the smells of waking up, morning on magnolia trees two streets over, of sheets sweated in during the summer night, of a breakfast not made and a day still becoming.
Last night, as I was driving home I was stopped at a light. I looked over across the street and on the sidewalk in front of brick rowhouses was a young girl, barefoot, wearing a pale pink tutut. The dress contrasted against her dark skin, the red fading behind her as she kicked and twirled and danced up and down the stairs. The light turned green before I was finished watching her, but the years captured in her dancing were more than I will ever live.
for days that seem like dreams are often the sweetest reality...
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