Tonight I was out for a walk, and the dense, ripe smell of guavas washed over me with the breeze. October is their month to shine, and the distinctive fragrance is almost better than the fruit. The four planted outside my kitchen window have regaled me with their aroma and complemented many a dinner with their sweetly tart flavors. And as I walked, I had the thought that someday decades from now I’m going to smell a guava tree in October and think, “That reminds me of my first apartment in California, the one with the rock garden and the gorgeous landscaping, and the great neighbors who always tiptoed around and kept their porches tidy. Oh my goodness, cute little Ivan must be out of high school by now!.” And I realized that I’ll be thinking those thoughts with a beautiful nostalgia, because no matter where I am then, it won’t be right here; no matter how happy I am, it won’t be exactly this happy.
So I took a moment to stop and savor the guavas.