Scent of a Woman

To The Lady on the Train,

How to describe all the complex and conflicting emotions that one can experience all at once is a problem for which I do not have the language. So I will tell you as simply as I can, and you will have to imagine the parts where I fail.

I do look for you in every crowd even though I know that you could not possibly be there. I look for you in every woman I see. Can I find the line of your jaw from your small ears to your chin? Do the straight back and sway of hips resemble you? Can I see your sharp shoulders and swing of your arm and your slender fingers somewhere among the people around me?  

This morning I was taken completely by surprise and almost overwhelmed when a woman stood beside me on the subway.  Curls, a partially tamed riot, pulled back and tumbling; a downturned gaze into a book and not knowing that she has an affect just by being there. But what almost brought me to my knees was the drifting scent, unmistakable - Essential oil blend #6. And suddenly I could almost imagine that you were standing beside me. And I could feel the gaping emptiness of this stranger not being you. 

I wish that I could tell you every thought and emotion that crashed through me. And all because a woman with curly hair and a perfume stood beside me. I can't though. I do not have the language; no such words exist. But some of what came flooding were times when we walked beside each other, when I held your hand as we drove, hearing your voice in my ear as we sat in a theatre, and the feel of your limbs along my own. 

And I remember the way that scent would completely fill me, bring me to my knees, and lift me to the heavens. 

The Man in the Station