Did you know that a large chunk of my childhood smells like flowers, and fruit, and the smell of an overcrowded bus on a sweltering hot, humid day?
It looks like beaches and fireworks, gumbas, coatis, and sloths, bidets and cockroaches.
It feels like rain and heat, soccer and dancing, smiling and singing.
It tastes like feijoada, brigadeiros, and guarana.
It is huge chocolate eggs for Easter, sweating on the beach for Christmas, lighting candles in the sand for New Year's, presents on Children's Day, a week off of school for Carnaval, it is giving figas to friends, it is the ciaza, and dust, buildings made of concrete and stone, it is awkwardness and growth.
Sometimes, I want a taste of that again. Wouldn't you? So last night for dinner I made feijoada. With orange slices on the side.
What did yours taste like?