The scent of possibility
Rubbing old-school goopy-white sunblock on my face turns me into a kid again. Remember how the smell of sunblock was synonymous with too much fun in the sun? You’d squint as mum or dad smeared it over your eyelids, nose and lips. Legs would be pumping with excitement: lemme go, lemme get out there! Your brother or sister was already out there shredding it because they beat you in the application line! You knew the day would be full of icy-cold juice boxes, squished sandwiches, raft-building and hair matted back by lake water. Or maybe salty from the sea.
It’s all there in the scent of SPF 15.
Man I can’t handle it: I’m back there! Can’t you feel the hot stones under your feet? The pop of blue berries in a mouth that laughs blue! Skinny, bony bodies working on beach projects that mum and dad have to approve every 15 minutes.
Go to the pharmacy and buy some Coppertone. Phone your bro, phone your sis and swing by dad’s office. Get him to slather you up and hit the beach, because life is too short and sweeter than sugar.
Thinking of y’all.
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