Scents of Love
When the morning air has a pungent, prickly, peony scent, I know maw (my lady love) is going to work. She’s all golden in front of the glass spraying and powdering until she finally clicks and clacks out of the bathroom. I know she’s saying, “I won’t be long” and “I’ll be right back.”
It doesn’t happen every day, but, boy, on those perfumy days, I know I’m gonna enjoy a nice, quiet nap. When she smells of fresh grass, rubber, and dirt, I know she’s home for the day; and we’re going on a long walk and then for a quick ride in the car to pick up the girl.
I know pretty much everything going on with my family by what I smell. The girl gets picked up at a huge brick building with a lot of other pimply young people. I ride with my head out the window and get wiffs of so many intoxicating smells like cupcakes and bologna sandwiches.
My snout can sense if she’s happy when she gets in the car or if she’s had a rough day. I know she relaxes some when she sees me. Although the capabilities of my nose are impressive, I understand a lot of what they are feeling and what they say.
Maw talks to me everyday whether it is after work and we romp immediately outside or whether she is a bit tired or sad and just rests her head on mine. I understand her sing-song pitch of joy and excitement and her softly spoken utterances when enveloped in worry.
When the evening air has a warm, spicy scent, I know Maw will be headed for the front porch or for the cozy couch, and I’ll be right there with her. I know my family loves me. I can tell by my nose.