Memories.

Sometimes I'll smell something, or hear something, maybe taste or feel something, and it makes me remember things. I remember good things about people I wish I didn't, I remember bad things about good people.

It's the smells that get me the most. Today, it was snowing, and when I opened the door I smelled the cold. It made me first, think of my grandma. How she's in Iowa and how I don't get to see her much. Then I thought of driving home as a child. Mom in the front thinking about who knows what, Zac and I in the back plotting our night, the snow on the side of the road covered in sand. Then I thought of dad's old house. How we used to knock the ice off the gutters because my dog liked to eat it, how we used to eat it too. It tasted like dirty water, but it was okay because it was frozen. It was like a natural, dirt flavored Popsicle.
Then I thought of walking down that ally at 5 in the morning. Of hearing the crunch of the snow beneath my slippers. How I knew that if his dad looked at the monitor when I was in the back yard, he would see me through the camera he put up after the garage got broken into. I thought of walking in the side door and seeing your mom on the computer. I was always afraid dad would come back for something he forgot, but he never did. I remember walking down into the musty, humid basement, being careful not to wake your sister. And laying down beside you. You held me then, and I really thought you loved me. I was safe and happy. I felt as though nothing was wrong. We'd lay there for another 2 hours, then I'd get up and get ready for school with your sisters. Like part of the family. But I wasn't. You played me and hurt me and you blame me. You always blamed me. For everything. If a plane full of Russian murderers crashed in Turkey, it was my fault in your eyes. And this all came rushing back today. All in about 5 seconds. Just because I opened the door to see how cold it was. Just because the wind blew in my face. Just because it snowed.

sometimes smells make you remember things. Good things, about bad people.