Connections

"Ok," the girl tossing tortillas at the burrito bar shouts. "Who's wearing patchouli?"

The line in front of me was long, so was the line behind me and I'm looking, or rather sniffing, just as everyone else is, for the patchouli wearer.

The girl smiles at me as I get closer to the counter to order and says, "It's you, isn't it?"

Then it hits me ~ ha! My patchouli and neroli and clementine hair balm, my neroli and patchouli facial elixer ~ duh.

"Yeah, it's me," I say quietly.

My husband, who is standing right behind me grins and tells her, "Yeah, she makes perfume."

The girl's eyes light up and she asks, "Make perfume? With natural stuff like patchouli?"

I nod in affirmation.

"Do you sell in shops?" she asks, wrestling with a tortilla.

"No, just online," I reply.

"Card?" she asks, then expertly rolls a burrito closed.

"Yes, I have one here." I dig through my purse for the card. "Oh, and in the spring I'll be teaching a little beginning naturals class at a plant nursery up in the mountains."

She stops all her rolling and scooping and tossing and flinging. "Classes?" she asks, her eyes wide.

"Yeah," I laugh. "Classes."

"I just love patchouli," the girl says, staring down at the business card, her crinkly plastic gloves dirty with sour cream.