What can I say? I miss my Tom.
When the wisps of a neighbor’s cigar, combined in the spring breeze with the lilac blossoms and freshly cut grass (because everyone was restfully mowing their lawns) reached my nose this Sunday afternoon, it made my heart just ache for my husband.
Rearranging Tom’s cigar collection backfired as a “fix”. After carefully examining the cigars for several minutes, I caved. I needed more. I couldn’t resist lighting one up and smoking it for myself.
I chose a Macanudo Gold Label, as it had the mildest scent and because it was smallest in my husband’s humidor. My guess is that it was just a little over five inches in length. (While my hands are not dainty, they are characteristically petite.)
Even without much to compare it to, as this was only the second cigar I’ve ever had in my life, I know this was a good cigar. It burned evenly and slowly. The feel of the wrapper was smooth to the touch. Part of me wanted to almost take a bite out of it, it’s texture was so pleasing to my tongue. It’s golden color was naturally beautiful.
The flavor was soothing. Mouthwateringly classic, even. Perfectly woodsy with a spicy undertone, yet somehow sweet like the pleasant scent of distant flowers in a quiet forest. Pleasant, but not overpowering. If it wasn’t so late in the day, I would have gladly shared my palate with a cup of black coffee. I think the contrast of the coffee would have made the tobacco taste even sweeter.
As I smoked, the fragrance evoked warm memories of sitting on the front porch with Tom – what I was truly craving, even more than the smell or taste of a cigar. For this, there is no such thing as a satisfying “fix”.
When Tom called me tonight, he mentioned something about having some wine with dinner. Wine isn’t something Tom usually orders. Between my cigar and his wine – swapping each other’s vices at the same time unaware – I’d like to think we got to share a moment together this evening after all.
BTW: A slightly altered version of this blog entry can be found here.