Time Machine

The hills surrounding Farview could have been the set of an old western movie yesterday as smoke from burn piles here and there sent signals back and forth.  Dolly and I stood on the deck in the early morning and watched the smoke from Dennis's fire drift like mist down through the pines, back lit in the pasture by the rising sun.  Catching a whiff reminded us of the many campfires we've sat around over the years, the places we'd been and the people we were with.  It occurred to me later as I was milking that the sense of smell is everyone's personal Tardis, the mechanism by which we can be instantly transported through time and space into the past.  A particular scent will conjure faces, places, and/or events faster than words.  A smell can be the "Open Sesame" to doors long forgotten.  A man walks by wearing Old Spice aftershave and I am by my father's side.  Catching the smell of warm woolen cloth, I am fifteen years old and attending my boyfriend's graduation from boot camp, hugging him in his navy blues.  Opening a jar of apricot jam sends me into my mother's kitchen as she and my sister can jar upon jar of jam with fruit picked from our orchard, kerchiefs tied around their heads and faces glowing from the heat.  A veterinarian explained to me once that the sense of smell is the last to leave the body and to put my hand next to the nose of the beloved dog we were easing out of her pain so that she would know to the end that I was with her...perhaps that is the teleportation into the future.

It was a night race yesterday.  Dolly is more fanatical about NASCAR than I (she's been a fan longer), and we planned the day around race time.  It was such a great and pleasant surprise when Clay came up to watch the race with us.  I've always had difficulty knowing the best way to introduce this young man.  "Son" isn't correct...he has his own mama, although I'm proud he also calls me Mom.  "Adopted son" sounds too legal, too formal.  "Friend" doesn't begin to describe that I love him like a blood child.  It came to me in a flash.  I am Clay's "Aftermarket Mama!"  The three of us had a terrific afternoon and evening, sharing conversation, a meal, and a race (which their shared favorite driver unfortunately lost).

Yesterday was another sunny, bright, warm day and Dolly was sure the spell was over and done.  She sleeps while I am typing, and I'm afraid I will wake her with my laughter in the early morning dark.  It's raining!