Smells like Home
I remember fragrance.
He liked subtle colognes.
Different ones,
each complemented
what was uniquely him.
It was the smell
of church Sunday morning.
The smell I breathed in
when he helped me inside
after I fell off my bicycle.
And the smell of him
when he returned home
from a business trip.
He had hugs
and kisses all around.
And conversations for mom.
They exchanged
home updates and trip recaps
while my brothers and I
rummaged through
the designated suitcase for souvenirs.
I got T-shirts neatly packed.
I put them in my shirt drawer
so it smelled of
dad, security, home.
Interestingly now,
some odd days
a look in my neatly folded
t-shirt drawer
catches me up in a whirlwind
that blows in the memories
that trigger the familiar,
missed scent that was my dad’s
and I’m home wherever I land.
© 2010 Shari Lynne Smothers
This poem is for the napowrimo prompt #16, what’s that smell Visit the post to see the details of this prompt.
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