I love the smell of our master bath when Larry is done with his morning shower and routine.
This morning I walked into our bedroom to get dressed and was greeted with the clean, crisp air that carries the memory of my husband. I immediately felt the urge to search the house until I found him and bury my face against his neck and inhale him. But I also found myself fixed…held motionless by the thickness of the ghost of him. I hadn't realized that this trace of his person held a weight in my memory. It evoked sentiments of home-coming and belonging and "right where I want to be"-ness. I took the moment to breathe it in…and smiled.