Smell of love

1:01 PM

  There is this smell. How do I describe it? It is my favorite smell and yet I can find it only in one place on earth. One place that I rarely get to go back to place that won't be around forever, and in fact will vanish one day without a trace, filled with other scents that remind me of nothing.
   This smell.
   I have a small sampling of part of the smell in my drawer inside of blue powder compact with a white cameo on the outside. It is empty. I could fill it but then I would replace that smell with my own smell. And let's face it: my own scent is not special to me. I smell it everyday. But the powder residue in that compact....that is special. That smells like Grammy.
  When I get to open my big, white chest another part of the whole scent comes wafting up to my nose: moth balls. Because Grammy only buys the good stuff, the real stuff. She only buys cotton and wool. She only buys the authentic and will never settle for the less. And the authentic, the real must be taken care of. If you don't want moths to eat your wool or your silk you better get used to the smell of moth balls. I love that smell. It smells like discovery and stories of Grammy's past. It smells like my ancestor's blankets and their old chests. It smells of family and love.
    Then there are components that I only get to smell every few years now, but that I used to smell several times a year. Like Grammy's buttermilk that she drank constantly. Or her chocolate cake. Open the top of the cookie jar and it will smell of macaroons past. Come into the kitchen and smell the yeast in the bowl that will soon become fresh rolls. Lie down next to Grammy for a bedtime story and you will smell old paper and ink from the books she kept all these years. Open the mahogany chest just to see if everything that ever was is still there and you will smell the strong wood that she loves. Press down the piano key and smell a certain smell of ancient ivory keys mixed with the wood and old paper.

    Perhaps you would come into this house where I found my childhood and not feel these scents wrap their arm around you and squeeze you tight. Perhaps you will be the one that takes these smells away from me one day. But you can never take away the memories. And whenever I smell an old book, or old wool blanket, whenever I touch the keys of an old piano or eat a coconut macaroon I feel my Grammy wrap her love around me. And no one can take that away.

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