I'm not a smoker,

but that cigarette the other night reminded me of smoking Camel straights with Heather on her Grandma's balcony and talking about being in love.

And it reminded me of stumbling down certain Parisian streets quite early in the morning with kids I hardly knew and sharing a Gitanes with someone while conversing in my terrible French.

It reminded me of being in those woods we love, playing Scopa under the stars and laughing at ourselves through Cigarillo smoke.

It reminded me of gathering everyone on that old deck at the end of the street, the smell of the ocean in my nose and its sandy, breezy perfection at my fingertips--smoking Eric's cigarettes and them all saying it somehow suited me. Sitting by that open fire, talking about being adventurous and getting excited about life and being young and sometimes foolish.