it smelled like summer.

but not any summer. it smelled like the edge of summer. that perfect oregon summer. walking home through my park, the air was cool, a soft breeze on my face. i could smell flowers on the edge of my awareness, freshly cut grass, a clean fresh summer day coming to an end. i want to hold on to that small, feeling, to live there. to curl up there and never leave. it stuns me to find this smell in hiroshima, in early march. closing my eyes i feel i can touch my childhood.