The seasons

Each season has such a distinct smell. I know they all have their own colors and patterns, textures and moods, but most importantly, winter, spring, summer and fall all smell differently, and connect to a different memory.
Sometimes I’ll smell one during another. It catches me off guard and stops me in my tracks. Usually the smell will bring with it a face or a shore line, a different shore for each seasons. The memories begin to creep back, bringing with them bottled up emotions that may not have been experienced for a while. It’s a very nostalgic feeling.
But mainly, it reminds me of life. The smell of another time, another place, reminds me how lucky I am to be in this one. It shows me that no matter what I’m stressing about right now, what I find most important, what small insignificant detail is worrying me most right now, they will all be completely moot once the next season turns. This smell reminds me of how close the next season is, and how quickly it will be upon us. It takes me by the hand and tells me not to worry so much, that everything will be ok. This smell, that comes out of no where, was meant to remind me that soon I will be somewhere new, and that nothing I say or do can change that.
They say the sense of smell is the one most successfully tied with memory. I believe it. My memories have a fantastic way of popping up at inopportune times, but the smell of fall helps me to remember people and places I miss and the good times that have truly saved my life.

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