THERE WERE CERTAIN corners of High Park Avenue that smelled of almonds in the summertime.

In all my time growing up in that tree-ridden neighbourhood, I’ve never seen a single almond on a tree or on the sidewalk, but when the cicadas sang on the sweaty corner of Glenlake and Oakmount, all I could smell were almonds. I’ll be damned.

Just around the corner from the scent of almonds, I knew a Polish girl who had memorized every rung on the Eiffel Tower.

When her parents took her away to Hawaii for vacations, I’d sit on the grass beneath her bedroom window, which was on the second floor of an apartment building. I loved the way she loved the Eiffel Tower, and I’d tell her so while she was sunning herself on white sand thousands of miles away.

The bullies weren’t so bad.When I was in Grade 7, I was dating a girl from the public school next door.

She was in Grade 5, but she was older than me. I actually found it an interesting challenge finding different routes home after school, trying to avoid all the hormonal prepubescent boys who wanted to beat me up with bats and chains in order to prove that I was an inconsistent 12-year-old lover.

I wonder where those boys with chains are these days.… I return to the old neighbourhood often.There are more people there, but many of them I still know and recognize.The sidewalks are still the same, but some of the old trees have been cut down. In the summertime I don’t smell almonds any more.

Justin Rutledge’s latest album is The Early Widows. Go to www.justinrutledge.com for details.