School days meant up-before-dawn,
carpools across town,
tuna-sandwiches and rotting
bananas shoved in brown
paper sacks.

Then home by bus – exhaust,
the stench of old men, stale
lunchbags, gym shoes and
pre-adolescent sweat.

Four blocks to home
by foot, the locals taunting,
the inevitable tussle –
blood mixing with moldy
leaves and mud.

I’d burst through the front door,
anger peaked, hunger havoc, and
the waft of cinnamon and cloves,
warm apple pie, or the sugary syrup
of cherry – after dinner promises –
and gooey chocolate melting
into sweet chewy dough –
mom’s recipe for calm.

(Gina is hosting tonight at the dVerse Pub, and she challenges to write about comfort smells.)

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Permission to write, paint, and imagine are the gifts I gave myself when chronic illness hit - a fair exchange: being for doing. Relevance is an attitude. Humour essential.

42 thoughts on “Aromatherapy

  1. this was a beautiful walk down memory lane and brought thoughts of home back to me, the school bus ride and anticipation of what would greet me at home. though we had spicier smells where i come from, reading Lillian’s poem today made me crave apple pie and here you write of it too – beautifully serendipitous!! love your lines that weave and entwine around my heart, a story of a girl that appreciated her wonderful life. so well done VJ! thank you for participating!

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Oh, you’ve distilled that coming home smell for me, V.J. It was so long ago but it never left me. The only smells I’d prefer to forget are left-over packed lunch, especially the rotting banana – gym shoes and pre-adolescent sweat! I love the phrase ‘hunger havoc’.

    Liked by 1 person

  3. The walk home from the bus sounds a little harem-scarem, but mother knew how to make everything better! (After reading all the poems, I’ve added pumpkin pie to my grocery list).

    Liked by 1 person

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