The Scent of Acceptance

Farm Proud
16 x 20
acrylic collage
on paper

When the school bus squealed to a stop to pick up the neighbor boy this morning , I found myself trapped in a memory. I never rode a bus to school, but I rode one to a YMCA day camp when I was about 8 years old.
One of the advantages of having a good imagination is that your mind can take a trip to any given memory at any given point. It's like actually traveling back in time. The disadvantage of this great gift is that dealing with the here and now is just not as exciting.
I often get to a place in my mind and then have to take a million steps back to see how I got there. I am always fascinated how a certain sound, smell, or even taste can trigger a memory.
This morning it was the sound of a school bus.
There I was at summer camp experiencing one of the greatest feelings of acceptance I believe I ever had. Remember I was 8. My counselor let me wear her smiley faced t-shirt.
She chose me! I was a happy camper, except I have to inform you that this was a camp held smack dab in the middle of a Texas summer. The shirt was wet with sweat as it hung down below my knees and had that sickly soured scent of body odor.
Yet, I wore it with pride.
I was the chosen one.
I guess,
the drastic measures I would take for acceptance must have started at an early age.
As I close my eyes, I can still smell that smiley faced t-shirt and I am proud.