"Give sorrow words; the grief that does not speak whispers the o'er-fraught heart and bids it break." ~William Shakespeare

Monday, August 2, 2010

The Smell of Tomatoes

The smallest things remind me of you. I was grocery shopping the other day, and the smell of the fresh tomatoes on the vine took me back. It took me back to when I was younger, and you grew those massive tomato plants. I thought back on how you would wait until it was dark to water them. You use to put miracle grow in the water, and you would let me come out at night with you and help water them.

That made me think about how you use to take me fishing at night. I thought about how I would always fall asleep on the rocks there by the river. I didn't care how tired I was, I just wanted to be with you. Although it was dark there by the river, I was never scared, because you were near.

That made me think about how we would drive home and when we got there, we would cuddle on the couch together and watch the old black and white Frankenstein movies. I always fell asleep, but it didn't matter. I just wanted to be close to you.

All of this from the smell of tomatoes.

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