The Smell Of Childhood

I have been sick for over a week now with that cold virus that is sweeping across the country so blogging is low on my list of priorities right now. I have reached the point where I am tired of being indoors and in pajamas all day so this morning I got dressed and went with my husband when he took the dogs on their morning run. When I stepped outside a fragrance on the breeze send me instantly back to a memory from my childhood. I was eight-years-old, sitting cross-legged and hunched over on the sidewalk in front of my house with a rock in my right hand. My left hand was pressing a section of a roll of paper caps flat against the concrete in front of me as I smashed my rock down on one small disk of explosive material after another. The banging noise produced by my action was very pleasing to me. So was the smell of sulfuric smoke and burnt paper wafting up into my nostrils as each cap exploded. The air was scented with that smell this morning; the ghost of paper caps past.