I open the back door on a mission to start the grill for dinner and I stop in my tracks. The sky is blue with bursts of white clouds and sun radiating down on my evening; which is enough to make anyone stop for a moment to enjoy but it's the sweet smell that stops me. I turn to my right and my lilac blossoms are bursting. I find such sweet joy in their smell. It lightens my step. It makes me breath slower. However, tonight I realized they do so much more. They take me back in time.
I'm standing in Grandma and Grandpa's driveway. The same smell of sweetness is there. It's toward the right, down a very small hill. I can't get there on a direct path because the gardens are there with rows of berry bushes. I turn my pace into a jog and dodge the garden by turning left, then right, and head straight to the three lilac bushes. When I get there I take deep big breaths and am in love with their sweet sweet smell. I believe her flowers were more blue/purple and white. Quite often we would cut some off the bush/tree and wrap their stems in damp paper towels so I could take them home.
I return to my current mission and light the grill. The scent of these lilacs really gave me a mental image of a place. As I write this post, I'm surprised my grandmother wasn't with me but in reality I would sneak to these lilacs whenever I could to smell them with or without her. I don't know if I've ever really thought about the scent of something guiding my writing but I'm going to share this idea tomorrow with my writers.
I wish you could smell these; allowing yourself to stop and breath a little slower.
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