Raspberry dreams

My apartment smells like raspberry dreams.

The smell of homemade raspberry jam is taking me back through time and space. I'm in my grandmother's kitchen on a hot summer day. The sun is shining through the window. The breeze of the open window ruffles the lace curtains. Her house is so close to the ocean I trick myself into thinking I can smell it. Butter melts on on biscuits still warm from the oven. Warm raspberry jam is piled on top. Sweet simplicity.