The Sweet Smell Of Home

Years ago when I first went away to college, I went to what was then known as Troy State University. Located in Troy, Alabama, about 30 minutes East of Montgomery, Troy State was in a fairly rural area - lots of farms and open land nearby. I didn't have a good experience at Troy for a variety of reasons and circumstances that I won't go into here. The bottom line was that on most Thursday or Friday evenings I would make the 2 1/2 hour drive back home to Pensacola for the weekend. Being in semi-rural Alabama, Troy and the surrounding counties had a specific smell. Not unpleasant, but very earthy - dirt, grass, water, manure, and pine sap. Again - not unpleasant per-se, just not what I was used to growing up in coastal Pensacola, Florida. Pensacola always smells slightly salty, with a hint of the mustiness of wetlands, rivers, and swamps. Sea, salt, and sand predominate, though, and you don't even realize it exists until it's not there. On my drives home, I would take Highway 231 South to Crestview, and then head West on I-10. At the Milton exit I would roll down my windows and wait. In a mere few miles I'd approach the bridge over Escambia Bay. Just before the road bends and the bridge becomes visible it hits you - that salty seawater marsh smell. I always loved that moment when HOME hit me in the face via my nostrils and my rolled-down Pontiac windows. Flash forward 25 years. I find myself on the balcony of a cruise ships after a 7-night trip. We're only a bit away from the west coast of Florida, and my home now: Tampa. I stand out here in the dark, a glass of Cabernet in hand, and I catch myself leaning out, trying to smell Home. Tampa smells a lot like Pensacola actually, which is maybe part of why we ended up there. So I'm not sure exactly what I'm searching for since I'm literally surrounded by salt and sea. 7 days is a long time to be away from Home, which may be why I sit here with binoculars at my side trying to see or smell "Home." The realization that I was trying to catch a whiff of Home sent me back 25 years to a Navy Blue Pontiac on I-10 over the Escambia Bay Bridge. Home may be where the heart is, but sometimes your nose can be what clues you in to Home in the first place.