It smells like Cheerios.
The aroma hits me out of the blue and suddenly I am whisked back to childhood breakfasts at the kitchen table in the early morning, my father encouraging my sister and I to eat faster so we wouldn't be late for school. I remember wishing I had been allowed to eat sugar-coated cereals like Frosted Mini Wheats or Cinnamon Toast Crunch or Cocoa Puffs. How silly it had been to wish for such sweet diabetes-inducing treats. We would never be allowed to eat these for breakfast.
No, it was always Cheerios.
Or Corn Flakes.
Or Rice Krispies.
But I am not smelling Rice Krispies, I am smelling Cheerios.
Cheerios makes me think of childhood. There is something in its simplicity that is innocent and pure and calm. Cheerios takes me back to a million of other memories. Waiting for the bus at the corner with my sister, playing "Restaurant" in the kitchen and serving "power leaves" (letttuce) to all of the invisible customers, riding bikes irresponsibly and falling off of them during Block Parties and scarring your upper lip right before camp so that a giant scab exists for all the other ten-year-olds to look at and wonder if it is really a booger or some weird deformity...
And though Cheerios reminds me of my childhood, it remains an adult choice. I often think to myself, "What I wouldn't give to sit on the porch in the morning and eat a bowl of Cheerios as the sun makes its way into the sky." I dream of purchasing a bistro set for this very reason. To sit in simplicity. To have calm. To eat whole grains and soak in the sun. To remember a time when everything was unsure and beautiful and sweet and innocent.
I look out the window and watch trees and pastures roll by, and I realize the aroma of Cheerios has left the air, but I will hold these sweet memories close forever.
