Marcel Proust Was Right

I have these deep rooted memories of rainwater and how it always reminds me of being in Florida with my parents when we were younger, especially the ET ride at Universal studios and how it smelled like rainwater inside there all the time. Going onto the balcony and smelling the perfume of freshly rained on flowers, trees, grass and earth makes me feel so incredibly safe, rooted and eternal. It is a beautiful feeling. When I took Henri out into the hallway, I was immediately reminded of hotel hallways in Florida and for a brief but timeless second I remembered cheap handheld video games, my small body as a child wrapped in a towel, dripping from a swim in a hotel pool. Like the legs of the muppet babies nanny, I could feel the presence of my father hovering somewhere in my memory. But is was the smell of my apartment hallway where I lost myself. It is almost the same smell as the corridors of those Florida hotels, warm and rainy and stuck to the walls. For that one second I remember a childhood and convince myself that my memories have indeed happened.