My Stepfather's in the Microwave

We have some women that come and clean our house each month. Whatever cleaner they use to clean the microwave perfectly captures what my stepfather smelled like. Part man, part machine. If I could have bottled his essence, that would be it.

In life, there are certain smells that trigger memories in our brains. And every time I open the microwave door, my stepfather wafts out at me. I’m instantly transported back to over a decade ago; sitting next to him at his desk, talking about the latest computer games, and munching on sunflower seeds and gummy bears.

I still miss him. I wonder what he would have thought of my son. I wonder if he’d have been proud of the man that I became. I wonder if he’d have transitioned over to consoles instead of computers to play his games. But unfortunately, I can’t ever know that. He was taken from me before I was ready. But at least I can remember him every time I open my microwave.