The Sense of Time

You first smell the seasons change. The feeling of the temperature dropping below 70* for the first time in months is only a pleasant sensation. It is the smell, as I walk past an open window, that tells me that autumn is coming. It is a feeling of disassociation. Smell, for whatever reason, is most closely tied to our sense of memory. The season change is an experience in time travel. I am brought back to every instance of that autumn smell. All instances occur at once, in a flash that drawls on and slips through events like a dream. I am walking to gradeschool. I am walking to highschool. I am collecting acorns to throw at my friend. I spot a cute classmate in college. I am sewing furry pants. I am climbing into a make up chair to have a plastic mask gummed to my face. I slide down a plastic slide into a pile of leaves. I am crushing countless leaves with a slight twist of foot. Each crunch echoes all of the others until I am standing once more by that open window. 

__________

It has been a while since I last wrote to this blog but I check it frequently. I reread my past writings and wonder when I will settle down and figure out for what I am actually writing.

Stick with me.