every so often, i smell paris. it is a mix of a lingering perfume, cigarette smoke, and exhaust fumes. sometimes just baked bread adds to the mix, but usually the bread doesn't smell good enough to remind me of my old home. the smells hit me like a gust of wind, and a scene of me walking along my favorite path in a parc, or looking at the seine, or marveling, still, at the arc de triomphe returns to me. i sigh, the smell dissipates, and i look forward to next time.
yesterday as i walked along president clinton avenue to fetch an order i had called in for pick-up, the smell caught me.
on the way back to work, as i carried good, local food, i thought about the smell, and realized i still felt like paris. i was enjoying a walk down the street and looking foward to a delicious meal. my turquoise light sweater heated my body allowing me to truly appreciate the cool breeze. and i smiled.
it made me happy to have paris linger a bit more this time.