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The Smell of Winter
I settle in against my pillows and under my blankets. Tomorrow is an early day, so I need to get to sleep. Closing my eyes, I take a deep breath to relax and an out of place smell distracts me from sleep, sweet and very familiar. It takes a few minutes of deep breathing before I can identify the smell. The breeze coming in through my still open window smells like winter, out of place because it's barely autumn. I can't really describe how winter smells. I've never smelled anything like it, so I can't compare it to anything. It's like walking with a friend on a snowy night, bundled against the cold with extra layers and the laughter of friendship. It's a party with your closest friends, outside despite the cold because for some reason it's easier to be yourselves out there. It's watching the snow fall from your open bedroom window, and wondering if he's thinking about you too. It's the mini snow person you make every first snow of every winter, because you think snowmen are gender-biased. It sits on the swing with sticks for arms and whatever scrap yarn you can find for a hat and scarf. It's sledding down the hill at your grandmother's that seemed so much bigger when you were 7. It's begging your father to teach you how to make a snowman, because you didn't know what gender-biased was when you were little, and promising him you wore extra layers, even though you didn't. It's cold, it's Christmas lights, and snowball fights, and just staring at the stars. But for now, it's a smell, and a memory, and a dream, and most of all, it's a promise.
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