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Do you smoke?

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I really don’t. Through there are moments in my life when I’d like to lit a pipe and sit back with a good book. I wouldn’t necessarily smoke that pipe, though.

The scent of pipe smoke evokes feelings and memories that I associate with peace and comfort.

My grandpa was a pipe smoker, a habit he picked up as a university student who thought cigarettes were not very stylish. My father gave cigarettes up for a good pipe a year before I was born. One of my favourite brothers also prefers pipes.

I kinda wish I didn’t have overcooked marshmallows for lungs, and I could follow them in this habit as well. As I type it, I can see my grandpa’s pipe resting on top of my DVD shelf. I love that piece of my inheritance.

Next to the Shabbat candles, next to the Havdalah spices, this is the third scent forever engraved in my memory. The cherry scented tobacco, mingled with the scent of apple pie.

Oh how I miss it.

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