I have detected the smell of honeysuckle on the air this week. I forgot how many memories I associate with the smell.
I remember the smell of honeysuckle as a child. It is inextricably tied to my childhood. It reminds me of spring, of relaxation, of the temperate days before the summer heat. The outdoors and what it meant to play.
I don't remember the smell of honeysuckle in my adolescence. I don't remember the smell of honeysuckle in my 20s. I know the honeysuckle bloomed in those years. I was just too busy to smell it. Perhaps it was not that I was too busy. Perhaps I missed the honeysuckle because I was never outside. After all it is not as if I am less busy now.
I will remember the smell of honeysuckle this year. It is the last spring I will spend in Texas for some time. I am drawn to the smell of honeysuckle in the air and I am determined to savor every minute of it.
I am happy. Happy to smell honeysuckle again. Happy to be outdoors. Again. I am glad I had this chance, this moment. To smell the honeysuckle this year. To know what it means. To remember. To enjoy. Again.