When walking out of my last school of the day, it had just rained, and the air was thick with Houston-like humidity. There was a bit of mud near the sidewalk where I was walking, and the combination of mud and humidity took me back--way back. All the way back to football practice, as a matter of fact.
It's pretty weird how, as someone firmly established in a career, I could suddenly be transported back decades in time to the fields behind Nottingham Elementary in Houston, where my team, the Jets, practiced. Though I would never, ever be good at it, my scrawny, 65-pound self gave it my all for two seasons in football because it was the cool thing to do in Houston. (This was quite a contrast to my previous neighborhood in suburban St. Louis, where the popular pursuits included playing Yahtzee in the driveway.) Though it would give way to other, more sensible pursuits when I hit sixth grade, I've never stopped being a fan of football.
Have you ever taken a trip way back in time, just because of a specific scent?