Smoke

It's funny how much smoking a pipe relates to life.

I put time and work into my pipe. I lovingly chose it at Campbell's. I met a tobacco I like. I pack it properly. I light it properly.

I work with the pipe. Sometimes it doesn't want to light. Sometimes I need to repack it. It often shapes my experience in ways I don't anticipate.

But what we make together is worth it. I draw the smoke in, feeling it on my tongue. The taste is strong, but the scent is stronger. I let the smoke drift out of my mouth, I feel it rise into my face. I smell it. I watch it curl, spiral...and drift away.

I knew that smoke intimately. For a short time we were together. We shared space and experience. And then we parted ways.

I miss you, Bob.