Usually after I take a shower, I reach for a bottle of cologne a spray a dab or two on. Last night, I reached way into the back of the bathroom cabinet and pulled out an ancient bottle of cologne that looked to only have one spray left in it and spritzed myself.
As the sticky sweet, cotton candy smell of the 1980's cologne covered me, the years fell away and I was young again.
Can a smell, a scent be a time machine ?
There I was - a simple, uncomplicated version of me in a Frankie Says Relax tank top, black parachute pants and a pound of product in my hair. I'm drinking a Coors Light and trying to catch the eyes of a cute blond guy wearing a really awesome lime-green Swatch.
Then it hits me.
All those beautiful, beautiful (forever young) people I used to club with are dead now. So, why am I still here ? I wasn't an angel, I took no special precaution... Not for the first time, I wish I'd been taken - when they'd been taken.
I still hear their shrieks of laughter and their wide smiles and mirthful faces are imprinted on the underside of my eyelids and I dream...oh God, I dream of them.
Always spinning, spinning - twirling on the dance floor, young and healthy and reaching for my hands.
The 80's fade away and I'm staring at my bloated 50 year old face in the mirror again. My eyes are glistening just a bit as I drop the bottle into the trash.