I noticed it the first time I visited him in prison- he didn't smell the same. In the 8 months he was locked up, I was allowed to hug my husband four times. Each of those times, I nuzzled my head to his chest and tried to drink in the moment with all of my senses... but that smell... fruity? And where was it coming from... his scalp? Deodorant? Was he now using foot spray or what? Whatever it was wasn't necessarily bad or anything-just new. An imposter smell to replace his usual one. Which, if you must know, smells exactly like Crayola Crayons and is only noticeable once in a blue moon. (Or would that be a Cornflower Blue moon??!!)
Anyhow-the books and the comforter I gave him for Christmas…. Fruity. Wallet? Infused with the new fruity smell, too. At first this was totally annoying (Ok, not annoying enough to re-wash…) but now I find it oddly comforting. After three weeks out of prison, it feels like somehow this nightmare didn’t really happen. While we’re back into the swing of business and some the basics of life, it’s so easy to compartmentalize the prison time. It would be nice to pretend it didn’t happen, but it did. So, that pseudo smell? It’s simply tangible evidence that my husband really did return safely from a trip to another planet. He survived. WE survived. We’ve got alien aroma as proof.
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Hi! I just wanted to tell you that when I met you that I thought you were the sweetest thing!
Your blog looks wonderful! I love the picture at the top.
As I read through all your posts I said a prayer for your family. In fact it is 5:14 AM here in Georgia and I felt drawn to come back to your blog this morning and tell you I would be praying for you!
Jen
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