Dear _____,

One thing I regret doing is picking up a “smoking” habit around eight years ago. I use the quotations here because it was very short lived – maybe lasting three/four months. In that time, I never really learned how to do it right. I would erupt into a coughing fit each time I tried to inhale the smoke from the cigarette into my lungs. It felt like a fire spreading throughout the inside of my chest, which is about as pleasant as it sounds. Instead, I opted to keep the smoke in my mouth, breathing it in but quickly letting it out. Perhaps this why it was such a short-lived habit, as I rarely really breathed it in.

That being said, I still find myself liking the smell of cigarettes from time to time, despite how unhealthy I know it is. I suppose I find it somewhat nostalgic. It’s not like I was always around the smell of it growing up – neither of my parents smoked and while we knew people who did smoke, we weren’t around them on a regular basis. But scents work their way into memory and I suppose the lingering smell of cigarette smoke triggers some old scenes/feelings for me. Even now, when I’m walking through the city and see someone exhaling from a drag, I find myself searching for the remnants in the air as I pass. As if searching for those memories and experiences they’re linked to.

Specifically, there are two memories that come to mind. The first is linked to the times my dad would take me and my brothers to our home city’s baseball stadium for the occasional game. It was usually during the summer months or around the early autumn, so the air was either humid and heavy or starting to cool down. I remember walking through the stadium and going to find our seats, the myriad of smells whirling around us as we passed through the crowds. There were scents of the various fast foods being sold by vendors wafting about; a distinct smell of leather from the baseball gloves we carried in case a ball ended up coming our way; and there was the smell of cigarettes from people in the smoking areas, still spreading out to cover the entire area. Of all of those smells, it’s always the smell of cigarettes I remember first… and it takes me back to those days.

The second memory is of my uncle, my dad’s oldest brother. He was the only one of his siblings who smoked, so the scent was on him constantly. He always stood out to me, partially because of the smoking but also because he seemed the most different of my dad’s siblings. He was the only one of his brothers who had long hair and consistently had a beard/mustache. He swore a lot – another habit that was frowned upon due to the large amount of children that were usually at our family gatherings – but it never bothered me. He wasn’t the stereotypically “cool” uncle, but I remember him fondly. When I picture him now, he always has his patented New York Yankees hat and he always smells like cigarettes. And he always is smiling. I think he always smiled at me and my siblings and my cousins when he saw us.

He died approximately nine years ago. ALS. A month or so before he passed, I visited him in assisted living. I can’t remember what we talked about while I was there but when I think back to that visit, I’m left with a warm feeling about him. I look back at him and know he loved all of us – me and my siblings, his brothers and sister, his nephews and nieces. And I loved him.

To this day, I still have one of his sweaters with me, a big blue one. It’s much too big for me and the end of its sleeves are starting to unravel, but I refuse to give it up. It reminds me of him – whenever anyone says something about it, I tell them it was my uncle’s.

I guess this is why I still find the smell of cigarette smoke appealing from time to time. I can see these memories swirling around the air with each exhale, little wisps unfurling into the sky and reminding me of good times and good people. While I will never smoke again, nor would I ever condone it… I welcome the scent whenever I come across it.

Originally written 26-06-2025

Accompanying music: Elephant Crossing~ by Edwin Raphael