I stood in my kitchen today. Made myself take the time out to just be there, to soak up the scent of onions and spices cooking in the pot on the stove. To absorb into my body, my mind, my soul, what I take for granted. It was an attempt to fortify in my memory the scent that I have grown to love and one that represents my dad's cooking, thus a part of him. An attempt to not forget, while knowing it is inevitable. And realizing that the only moment I truly have, is now. The bittersweet feeling rears its ugly head once again.
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