There's a room in our house that makes me want him.
It smells like him, even when its empty of his things. But when they're there...hanging on the wire mesh shelving that was originally intended for our linens and extra towels and photo albums, the smell is intensified, my other senses piqued by the items there.
A polyester uniform shirt -- adorned with pins and a gold star.
Boots laying on the floor haphazardly where he kicked them off.
His gun belt -- the gun sitting in its box on a higher shelf, next to the box of ammunition.
The smell of leather and gun oil combine with his cologne and soap and the scent of his skin and it makes me think of him grabbing my hair, kissing my neck and pushing me up against the doorway.
Leaving me breathless.
Colleen writes at Mommy Always Wins and Milwaukee Mama Reviews. Follow her on Twitter.