Staticfree Blog

My hair passes near my face and I smell it. It's familiar, but misplaced in time, like a yellow envelope of childhood photos found behind the past-forgotten classics on a bookshelf. A rich aroma of log cabins, battered-pan cooked beans and marshmallows stuck to fingertips. It smells of thick night woods and a spring sleeping bag that never seemed quite warm enough. It smells of earth: smoke-stained hair from a gentle beach-driftwood flame.

It found me again, this old-friend smell; the kind you don't realize you miss until you head home. I hope to come back, with a smile on my face and tell it about all the things I've learned since we went our separate ways. It will quietly listen, coughing politely with sputtering flames and seething embers. Together we will glow, exchanging stories and writing memories to scent and scent to body. I won't forget you, friend; we'll meet again soon.