Philosopher's Closet

Crisp pungent lavender drifts forth when I open the closet door. I lovingly collected the blossoms last year, and competed with the bees for the flower’s purple treasures. Lavender is a clean, timeless scent. It speaks to me of freshness and reminds me of my childhood – the good parts, anyway. Sometimes I close my eyes and lean in, deeply inhaling its aroma. Its bouquet reminds me to slow down, that Time truly does not exist – that what I’m hurriedly preparing for will be there when I arrive.

If I’m patient, my nose catches whiffs of other bouquets…Red cologne, captured on the collars and necklines of my clothing, and the faintest trace of cigarette smoke. When the room is warmed by the afternoon sun, I recognize the heavy wool smell of my soft brown jacket. And there’s always the scent of the sea that clings to a couple of my cotton dresses.

Eternal, timeless, passionate, sometimes unwise, practical and comfortable, always renewing myself – re-establishing my place on the beach -- my closet smells like me.