There are some scents that strongly remind me of my childhood. It’s interesting, how they find their place somewhere at the bottom of my soul, deeply rooted inside of me, almost hidden, only to unexpectedly appear at the sufrace one day. I was washing my daughter’s hair not long ago when the scent of chamomille became so intense and pleasant, it moved me into the past, as if I had stepped into a time machine and ended up in my own mother’s embrace. She used chamomille for my baths as well and I can distinctly remember her delicate smell that followed me around throughout the days, making me feel clean and loved. Sometimes, a certain distinct aroma becomes an embrace that sooths and comforts you so that you feel that everything will be allright.
I’m driving along small countryside roads, surrounded by a October blue sky that is simply amazing. I love the small clouds that roam the sky like lost little lambs. Life sort of stops. I see green pastures and the sea in the distance and I suddenly get the feeling I am completely alone. The silence and serenity are a refreshing change from the summer bustle and children running around, never tired and always full of ideas. I used to be as careless and so were you, a long long time ago. Sometimes, I miss these perfect moments, when everything was as it should be, and you couldn’t even have imagined it any differently. When you believed that if birds can fly so high, there is no obstacle preventing you from doing the same. Higher, even, somewhere as high as the evening velvety sky, where everything is so perfect, you wouldn’t change a twig. I am still waiting for a moment, when I, now in my mature years, will lie down at the top of a hill, rest my head on a soft blanket and count the stars, for no particular reason, only to to stop the flow of time within me and listen to the beating of my heart. A moment for myself, to put my thoughts in order and become one with the universe.
And somewhere in between, on the magical road of your life, you become a grown up without actually realising, when it happens. You simply fall into a world full of rules and demands and it’s sometimes hard to understand, where your place is. You get a bit lost in the labirynth of people, who come and go, and oftentimes leave too many consequences, like tiny skin cuts that don’t hurt too much, but are neverthless a reminder of certain events, every time you see them. In the meantime, you meet people, in a very similar manner, who are more than happy to cut your wings shorter, making them more fragile, leaving you without protection and making flying that much more difficult. And yet deep down, I still strongly believe that our power is hidden somewhere in the deepest part of our hearts, that we are reborn from every failure and like a Phoenix flying high above everyone. We often don’t even look back, which may sound cruel, but I suppose Darwin had a point: every person must rescue themselves first.
These days, I carry the sun in my heart; the summer always leaves a strong impression, like the scent of chamomille, every August I think to myself, I have to catch all the rays I can to keep me warm late into the winter to comfort me that everything is in its place. At the same time, I admit that September has its own charm, like wind that swipes everything in its path and instantly gives you a new perspective on the world: a bit cleaner, more serene and fresh. I would like to rest in my mother’s safe embrace, like a cub, and I would like to be on the road again, far away from everything, in a tree house or in the middle of the wild swirl of colours in Portofino, which is already calmer now. And then I just stop and sort out my thoughts, I try to laugh out loud, because everything is still to come.
Like a gust of wind that clears my sky.