In the quiet corners of our souls, where time weaves its delicate threads, there exists a scent—an elusive fragrance that defies the boundaries of the present. It is called saudade, a word whispered across languages, a yearning that transcends mere nostalgia. Have you ever inhaled its essence? Have you felt its bittersweet tendrils curl around your heart, pulling you back to moments long past?

Picture this: a sun-drenched afternoon, the air heavy with the promise of summer. You stand by an open window, eyes half-closed, as if catching whispers from another lifetime. And there it is—the scent of saudade. It carries you on a fragile breeze, back to a certain room, a certain bed, where laughter once danced like fireflies. The walls remember, and so do you.

But saudade is not content with mere recollection. It insists on more—a reckoning, perhaps. It nudges you to revisit the forgotten corners of your mind, those dusty shelves where you stashed away memories like old letters. Have you ever pushed them so far back that they blurred into oblivion? Almost convinced yourself that they never happened? Ah, my friend, that’s when saudade unfurls its wings.

It’s a gentle assault, really. A soft ambush of truth. You see, those moments did happen—the ones that altered the course of your life. In the blink of an eye, a single movement, your destiny shifted. Perhaps it was a stolen kiss under a moonlit sky, or the way a stranger’s eyes held yours across a crowded room. Maybe it was the taste of salt on your lips as you stood by the shore, watching waves swallow your dreams.

And so, saudade becomes a mirror. It reflects the fragments—the laughter, the tears, the whispered promises—that shaped you. It reminds you that you are a constellation of memories, stitched together by time’s delicate needle. Each scar, each joy, etched into your skin like constellations against the night sky.

So, my dear wanderer, inhale deeply. Let the scent of saudade wrap around you like an old, cherished shawl. It is not a curse; it is a gift. For within its embrace lies the truth: you have lived, loved, and lost. And in those seconds, those heartbeats, your entire universe shifted. A single movement—a brush of fingertips, a whispered confession—altered the course of your existence.

And when you emerge from this fragrant reverie, remember this: saudade is not a ghost. It is the echo of your own heartbeat, a symphony of moments that refuse to fade. So let it kick your ass, my friend. Let it remind you that you are alive, beautifully flawed, and forever entangled in the dance of memory.

Note: The word “saudade” originates from Portuguese and carries a unique blend of longing, nostalgia, and melancholy. It has no direct translation in English, but its essence resonates across cultures. 🌿🌸✨

Copyright ©️ Beatriz Esmer