Vanillaroma Take Me Away

I was riding my bike around this little sleepy neighborhood, with more visible construction workers than actual residents, when I smelled it. Out of the side sliding door of a white van I detected the familiar smell mixed with the upholstery, cigarette smoke, and heat in the air - it was most certainly a Vanilaroma tree. We are hundreds of miles and a few decades away from the nostalgia to which this scent transported me.

Gas was 99 cents per gallon at Jersey Oil. My friends and I mostly drove hand me down cars from our parents, or a practical, barely functioning version of what we could all afford at the time. It was cool to know how to drive a stick shift. It was ok to scoop ice cream, bus tables, or fold sweaters at the Gap in order to make enough money to buy that gas and some Taco Bell after school. When Spring Fever started creeping in you could smell the story of these teenage owned cars in the fabric of the seats - intermingled with the musky flavor of your tree of choice. Mine was always vanilla. The door opens the simplicity of life goes wafting around in the warm breeze.

Indoor tanning lotion, cigarettes bought in a neighboring town so my parents wouldn't know, Pert Plus, Degree deodorant, fast food, Sunflowers... it's the scent "playlist" of my teen years. Now at 36 when I catch a whiff I just want to relish that one moment. Just stop the bike. Close my eyes. Spin around like Jennifer Garner in some movie from 2001-ish. And wish for simplicity. Not that I would want to give up the life I have now - I am so fortunate. But I do wish I breathed a little deeper back then and gave more appreciation to those precious moments. I wish that I could guarantee that my son will have the same happy nostalgia that wells in my chest at moments like this.

He Had A Fast Car

I often remember driving in his car. The speed and the teenaged love intoxicated me. A nylon seat belt created an embrace across my heart, connecting me to the steel of the car. My body heated, clinging to the seat in acceleration, then jerking with each intentional shift. I watched his hands which were usually divided between the steering wheel and the shifter. I watched his legs covered in faded Levi jeans marching with the rhythm of the clutch and gas. It was a Nissan Sentra. There wasn’t a place I didn’t want to go in that car. Freedom. To Blockbuster we went, for the latest in VHS entertainment. We watched movies sitting close with our innocent flesh radiating through clothes purchased for us by our mothers. At my house we had company - siblings and parents depending on the movie choice and time of night. At his house we watched in a private basement. I remember there, being secluded with just the light of the tv and our young love, we often became distracted during movies. The m

"A thing is not necessarily true because a man dies for it." -Oscar Wilde

The night trying too hard almost killed me. The evening started as a success. Thousands of dollars were being spent with each paddle's rise, benefitting a charter school on the island. On the microphone a local, well-liked politician energized the group with his beaming smile and rhythmic descriptions of items up for bid. Wine flowed endlessly, poured by the smiling staff hustling around the tent to ensure glasses remained full. Alcohol is a good fund-raising lubricant. The team of servers kept close watch on our table especially. At our table, their boss, my partner, was keeping close watch on the execution of this important evening. The auction ended and as we all dispersed from our seats to congratulate our table-neighbors on their winnings, my partner approached me quickly. His hand firmly grasped my empty arm (as the other was holding a wine glass) and he told me we were leaving. I was confused at first but as he began to describe the flaws in service he noted during the

#onwardandupward

It was almost 4 months ago now. “The Breakup”. It felt life-shattering, irreversibly damaging, and as bad as any tragedy I had ever experienced. It was dramatic and traumatic. It was something out of a romance turned horror film. It started with a suspicion and ended on vacation. In a blur of nausea, starvation, and sobbing, I spent my last 48 hours in Puerto Vallarta in disbelief, thinking I might die of heartbreak. Four months later while I still feel a sense of loss (mainly of time) I also feel I have gained much more. Maybe it is what I re-gained. The opportunity to be me. The chance to smell roses and meander rather than constantly running. Regaining my self confidence, self control, self worth. Regaining my security. Rediscovering my love for the world and releasing my discontent. As a master of the “all or nothing” method of loving someone, I martyred myself for what I thought was the benefit of my relationship. I blinded myself from any possibility that it would not wor

Un-Balancing Act

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