My Dad smoked a pipe.
In my mind, I can see him now packing the tobacco into his pipe and pushing the tobacco down into the pipe bowl. He would reach into his pocket and pull out his silver lighter, flip the lid, spin the flint wheel and press the flame to the tobacco. He's breathe in, puff it out and breathe in and puff it out, until the tobacco started to burn. Smoke would slowly rise from the pipe. In my mind, I can clearly hear here the click of the lighter lid closing as he put it back in his pocket. A sweet, nutty aroma would fill the air.
There was always a can of tobacco sitting on the kitchen cupboard. I can remember the smell so vividly. It brings back to mind the warm hugs and the smell of his flannel shirt steeped with the smell of the tobacco.
After my father passed away, the can of tobacco sat on the cupboard for a long time. Occasionally, I would lift the lid and smell the memories. I miss him.
Our senses are so connected to special people and special moments. I love that our memory can recall these moments vividly by the smallest of triggers. My parents didn't smoke and rarely had parties, but today when I smell smoke, I can vividly hear the chatter downstairs and smell the same nutty smell you described. They had a Eucher party, were serving Grasshopper (?) drinks and snacks and I so wanted to stay up past my bedtime and be part of the fun!
ReplyDeleteMy dad also smoked, I remember him rolling his own cigarettes when I was young and then he transitioned to a pipe and finally cigars. While not healthy, it does bring back memories
ReplyDeleteIt amazes me how often my senses bring back memories like the one you so beautifully share here. My grandfather smoked a pipe, and much of what you described about your dad and his pipe would apply to my Papa.
ReplyDeleteBeautiful details in this piece. I love the attention to smell and sound instead of sight. I love the smell of pipe tobacco. My great-grandfather smoked cigars, and I still think of him when I smell one to this day.
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