There is a small jar of gardener's salve on my kitchen window sill. It reminds me of Camden every time I use it. We were trying to start a life together after having failed before. It was mid-summer and the weather was glorious. That short vacation had elements of perfection and the undercurrents of despair. We bought the salve at a locally owned store but it was not quite locally made. But to me this has come to define the smell of Camden. It's ideal shelf-life might be a year but we are well over a decade here. The trip was the beginning of the end - an end, I pushed as far out as I could to believe I gave it my best.
Over the years, almost everything from that time was discarded but the remnants of the salve remains. The beeswax and coco-butter have turned a bit rancid but the lavender still shines through - I am not even sure how the smell can hold for all these years. I loved how it smelt and felt when I rubbed it into my hands - that was where dreams begin. I want to believe there were elements of wonderful about us and though it was not meant to be, some of what was best remains. The few words of wisdom, the acts of real friendship and glimpses of what might be possible. That salve should have been long gone if I was any real gardener.
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