Springing Forward

Certain experiences, sights, tastes, and smells conjure up memories.  The smell of creamed corn cooking in a skillet always makes me think of my Grandma.  The smell of stale beer and lingering cigarette smoke reminds me of the first night I knew I really liked B.  He, of course, smelled of neither of those things, but it was college and, let's face it, everything smells like stale beer with a hint of cigarette smoke mingled in.  I'm not going to lie (and I've never told him), but one of the times my heart misses him most is when I'm out with my girlfriends and I catch that key mixture of scents and remember back to the days of nerves and butterflies and, well, new-love excitement.

So today, when I started thinking about daylight savings time, my mind instantly shot back to B's baseball career.  During spring training, he would report to Arizona where, mind you, they are above the rules of daylight savings time.  So he was an extra hour behind, which doesn't feel like much, until you realize that night games end around 10pm his time, plus time for tarping the field or just getting cleaned up.  We had a lot of fuzzy phone calls that I don't remember in which I likely told him all my secrets and my bank account pin number.

When I think about springing forward, I don't think about flowers and late-afternoon walks.  Oh no, I'm right back to baseball, long-distance, and the sweet, sweet reminder that soon the eight hours between us will be gone and he'll be wishing for relief from my fluttering, snuggly self. Did I mention that I get to see him today? It's been a month.  I can't wait!