from @writingprompt: purple ink
Take a big whif.
Purple ink was probably the only time it was ever cool to sit on the front row in class. As elementary school children, we loved any time there was a worksheet or other type of handout in class. Sitting in the front meant you got to take a giant whif of the whole stack before keeping one copy of the mimeographed pages and handing the rest to the kid sitting one seat back.
My mom was a teacher. Occasionally during the summer or another break, I’d “help” her get her classroom ready. I’m sure I was very little help since there were so few things I could actually do. I remember it being very boring most of the time. She’d have to go in when no one else was there because her teacher friends were more talky-talky than worky-worky. So, here we were in this empty, dark, cold school building. Alone. The teacher workroom was my favorite part of her school. The smell of that purple ink. I so badly wanted to help her by making running that old mimeograph machine, but it was hard work. She even let me try to turn the handle one time and I couldn’t budge the thing. I think she and the other teachers thought they had died and gone to heaven when they got an electric motorized version of the machine. I was sad, though; I could “help” by pushing the button on the electric version, but we spent a lot less time in that wonderful room with the fabulous smells.
Go ahead, take a big whif. Can you remember that smell?