the smell of onions makes me think of old ladies. two old ladies sitting in the sunshine from the window, together cutting, chopping, and dicing away.
the smell of onions makes me feel young. like a child who is free. free to dream, free to believe. free to be scared, free to be needy. free to be weak.
the smell of onions makes me crave popsicles. pasta. orange soda and chocolate milk. i can almost taste and feel the cold stickiness of a push up pop in my hand.
the smell of onions makes me hear the ghost echoes of over loud televisions. soap operas. cartoons. variety shows. news programs. all at the dull roar of the hard of hearing.
the smell of onions brings me back to a dark hallway and family room. green carpet. cabbage rose print fabric. bright front rooms. to a small cement stoop to sit and rest on.
the smell of onions. a smell that so many dislike. to me the smell of love and childhood and memories.