Smoke and memory...

Sunday morning I awoke with my hair and skin fragrant with the odor of wood smoke. Snuggling down deeper into the covers, with my eyes closed, I brought a handful of my hair to my nose and inhaled slowly.  The scent of the smoke carried with it the sound of drums, the jingling of hip scarves and the rise and fall of laughter; the feeling of wet grass beneath my dancing feet, cool air at my back and the fire’s heat upon my face; it tasted of red wine, grilled burgers and chocolate wedding cake. 

The previous night I had attended a party at the home of two dear friends who were married this past January and on this summer night in June we were gathered to celebrate the union of these two people who we all love so much (yes, I am falling into the realm of sentimental and corny, but just because I’m a self declared spinster does not mean that I don’t believe in love or that I’m not a romantic at heart…and I might as well admit here and now that I coo over kittens, puppies and babies too, and I cry my eyes out at the end of Casablanca every time I watch it, but let’s move on shall we?).

There are very few times in my life where I have been both caught up in a moment and at the same time aware that what is happening around me is something I will never forget.  I am not exactly sure just when I had the realization that Saturday night was one of those times.  It might have been when the fire was first lit and people began to gather around the flames.  It could have been when the drums began, and the dancers took their sinuous first steps.  It might have been the moment that we all cheered as the couple served each other cake or maybe it was when I had my first glass of wine that evening.  Or perhaps it was the moment late in the night when I caught the drummer’s eye and as we exchanged smiles I realized that I’d no idea how long hands and hips had been in rhythm. 

It could have been any of those moments, and perhaps it was all of them with the evening passing as one extended pause where the fire, laughter, drums and love ruled over time, and I was a happy captive of my own senses.