Do you have certain smells that take you back?
The smell of grease and gasoline make me think that my Popo might have just left the room.
When I wash the dishes with Palmolive, I can see my Momo’s hands in the dishwater.
I love those moments, because even though my Momo and Popo are long gone, their smells linger like an embrace.
There are other smells too though…
If I happen in a building that uses Simple Green cleaner, I’m 16 again, and cleaning out dog kennels at my first job. (okay second, if you count the brief stint as a grocery store bagger).
The scent of permanent markers brings to mind that odd, broody girl that sat next to me in biology class. She would scribble with one, fiendishly on her bookcover then lay her head on her desk and huff the class away. Good lord. Every time I smell a Sharpie, I wonder where she is now.
I wonder then, what scents my boys and I are trading.
In the years to come, I wonder if it is their shampoo that will bring to mind their towel wrapped, wiggling wet bodies. Or will it be waffles cooking that makes me recall the crashing, slamming, giggling mess that is breakfast with three boys? Or goodness, it might be that entering a public bathroom will remind me of the days when, no matter how often I sprayed the place down with bleach, I could never remove the yellow smell that lingers in the loo where three men do what they do.
Then, what scents will make them think of me? Will it be the whiff of my perfume, that reaches them as they pass by some woman on a busy street? Will it be the fabric softener on their pillows that makes them think of Mama tucking them in at night?
Or maybe, just maybe, if I’m lucky, it will be lavender.
After all, it is lavender on the hands that wipe their tears, brush their hair, button their shirts and pinch their squishy little cheeks.
Lavender in the garden where we dig and play. My boys like to break off the leaves and rub themselves all over. Then, they walk around sniffing themselves. (I try not to think about that girl in biology class when they do this.)
It is lavender, trailing behind the sweet wind that ruffles through the curtains and runs through the house saying, “Spring is here! Spring is here!”.
If I could weave memories for them, I would fold them and tuck them away with lavender sachets, for a day far from now when they need a little mama embrace.
p.s. If you have been kind enough to leave me a sweet comment or question, please know that I will get back to you one of these days, but at the moment, I’m still without a functioning keyboard. I get stolen minutes here and there on my husband’s, for posting, but not much more than that. I also haven’t been able to comment on YOUR blogs or Flickr photos, but have been looking on silently. Consider me your silent fan 🙂