Cigarette

Cigarette
-A Stream of Thoughts, Drag by Drag

Don Macavoy

I was no stranger to smoke by the time I could walk. It was just another one of those things that existed in the world that I was still discovering. I admired the twirling, looping smoke as it poured from my grandfather's hand, as if by magic. I had my eyes fixed on him at all times. His constant smoking was a fact of life as I grew. It made me cough but he was my idol so why would I question him? He only stopped long enough to reach into his pocket for another smoke. He kept them on top of the grandfather clock in the living room, as if I couldn't reach them if I wanted to. When he took me to the flea market he would buy me the packs of gum in cigarette boxes that would smoke when you blew into them. They can't sell those anymore. Because that's why kids start smoking. I would puff away on them, right along with him. People would say it was cute. Now they would say he was setting a bad example. I started learning about the dangers of smoking in middle school. They painted a vivid picture of what it does to your body. Obviously I didn't want lung cancer and death the only person I really cared about in the world, so I set out to stop that. I would take his cartons from the top of the clock and hide them. I told him why I did it, making him laugh at me. Not in a mean way. In the way like he knew that I was only doing it because I loved him. That being so, he still knew he wasn't going to stop because I wanted him to. He continued right on smoking and I continued trying to stop him. I once took a pack right from his hands and put it in the toilet. I never realized it then but I must have smelled like smoke all the time. He started to get angry with my attempts but never got really angry because he knew I had good intentions. At one point I gave up on my pursuit. My cousin was visiting once and was smoking in the basement. He told me to try it out, so I put it to my mouth and inhaled. I coughed and handed it back to him. I never even wanted to try but that one time was enough to make me realize I was correct to think I wouldn't like it. All those people who talk about bad influence might be a little off. I took all of my cues from this man, following in his footsteps any way I could, but this was something I never wanted to do. I always figured that when he died it would be due to his smoking. He got sick, but it had nothing to do with smoking at all. His memory lives on with me and sparks up again everytime someone lights up a cigarette.