Aunt Sandy’s Kitchen

As she smokes and talks I breathe deep and I let my mind drift back.

I am about 7 sitting in Aunt Sandy’s kitchen. The sunlight shines bright into window and filters through the ribbon of smoke drifting up from the ashtray on the table. It is early fall so the heat has mostly gone and we can cook again for fun. I stare at the cigarette smoke as it gracefully changes shape and curls. I let my breath out a little faster and watch it waft away as a new column instantly fills the empty space. I breathe it in having no idea what it is doing to my lungs. I just know I like it. It smells good.

Then the aroma is replaced by something different. My trance is broken by the popping sound coming from the frying pan. Mmmm. Fried food. We are making egg rolls and to me it seems adventurous. I have no idea where my sister is so I have Aunt Sandy all to myself. I stand up and walk over to the counter and look at the wraps thinking how odd it was that THAT is what you make egg rolls from.

A year or so later my aunt and uncle move away and divorce. He is never very happy after that. His eyes always so sad. And I never get to see Aunt Sandy again.

I realize where I am as I pull back and look at the smoke. As she realizes it has drifted into my face she waves her hand through it, “I am sorry. I didn’t realize it was coming your way.”

“It is ok,” I tell her. “It makes me remember.”

I get up and move anyway.