I always held him in, and I always held him close. Age proved greater divergence in how to hold onto him. His name is Leo. I was a little girl once, and during raw innocence, Leo was closer to me than ever. Leo, at the time, was easy to talk to. He too was a child, and gaps stayed small. I soon had a new best friend. He and I did everything together. Simple things like the playground proved our connection through his guidance. Everything was so simple and carefree. A child can’t exactly confront another’s behavioral traits if their brain is not at its full capacity. Leo and I were together one day, walking through the school’s garden, a small establishment placed to add some color to the impressionable school ground.

        “You smell the Daisies and the Lilies, but have you smelled the Red Carnations?” Leo stood much taller than me, given his seniority. Gracefully as one is in a child’s mind, his feet gently padded along the newly constructed cobblestone path. Only the soft glide of bare treads on stone audible. No dust or white noise was apparent, as interruptions couldn’t absolute themselves in my sensile age. His gentle hand caressed the Carnation; his other beckoning me over. I did as I was told, and Leo’s lips upturned, but only the corner. I would have to learn more to earn his full smile. Things are simple, and the path comes easy. Skipping over the awkward rocks of the cobblestone road, I easily join his side. Leo holds the gentle head of the flower to my nose. A deep inhalation of the pretty thing only provides disappointment. No smell greeted my anticipating senses. I looked up to him with apparent confusion. Why would someone so simple and trustworthy play a trick on me? I expect a laugh, a form of mockery, but his face only softens. Impatient, I rambled out unprocessed thoughts.

   “Where is its scent? The Lilies are for sure more fragrant.” Leo thinks over my statement, then makes one of his own.

  “Ah, you cannot smell it yet? The fragrance is much deeper than the Lily. Time will come, and you will smell the carnations, too.” I was completely frustrated.

     “And you can smell the flower?” Why can he and not I?

     “Come here everyday, and smell the carnation. When you can take in its scent, tell me what it is like.”