My littlest sister graduated this weekend. The fourth and final to walk the halls of the good old MHS. And we were there, in those halls.
And the smell. The smell was surely the same. As soon as that linoleum-chlorine-air-conditioned-bookbag perfume floated to my nose I was rushed back to 15. Shawn Reed and I standing at those skinny lockers. I'm carrying my Jansport bag to calculus. I'm flipping through pages of art news in the back of the library where no one will see me. The smell took me right back to 15. And made me so grateful for 27. Scent is a powerful sense.