Tonight, as I walked from my car to the door of the apartment, all I could smell was barbecue. My next door neighbor was grilling out. Beef. Over charcoal. That is a smell that will always make me smile.
And more so because its December and 45F degrees out. It filled the air and welcomed me.
Because that is what that smell is for me. Welcome. Its home. Its connectivity of family.
When I was a child my mother prepped all the food and I my father grilled it. It was a very cooperative effort. And then we all ate together.
As a teenager, I connect it to large family gatherings with lots of food and laughter and card games and being together.
As an adult I just savor the nostalgic feel of welcome and home it gives me.
My neighbor is a serious barbecuer. He doesn’t let weather stop him. In fact he lights up an old hibachi on cold weekends and they sit around it like its a camp fire, just chatting.
I like him. I’ve never met him but I like him because he welcomes me home with the smell of his barbecue.