There's a sweet, sweet smell coming from the kitchen, and it is making me sad. It is a wonderful smell. It's not my cooking, but it is wonderful nonetheless.
It makes me sad because it brings back the memories of a time that's all gone.
My husband just bought this liquid potpourri that smells like apple cinnamon. The thing mixes with the smell of fresh bananas and bring me back the memories of boiled plantains.
Boiled plantains means breakfast at grandma. And breakfast at grandma's means my life in Brazil.
Days like today, when I have to stand outside at 7 am in a bitter cold of 41 degrees, make wonder why did I trade my always warm hometown for this ever cold place. What was I thinking? Days like today make me wonder if I am ever going to be warm again.
"Oh, how I miss the dawn of my life, my treasured childhood, that years bring back no more."