We are in the process of
moving. We have taken all the pictures
down, packed the pillows and most of the blankets. We are getting to the tail end of what we can
actually pack before the move. I walked
in the door the other day and was struck by the missing smell in our house and
it made me stop in my tracks. The actual
“smell” of our house. You know the one. Times when you walk into a house and you can
smell candles or bread or potpourri or bleach or heaven forbid, pee. (I think
we’ve all been there.) Or when I walk into my sister, Michelle’s house and it
smells like a combination of candles and cupcakes and little boys. (In a good
way!) And my friend, Jonelle’s house
that smells like essential oils and sage and I bought some soap the other day
that smelled just like that house and made
me a little homesick for that Las Vegas chapperel. And my friend Cora’s house that just smells
clean.
And you
just take that smell to heart and associate that smell with those people. Well, the smell of our house wasn’t our smell
anymore. It smelled like someone else’s house. It smelled like a house that
wasn’t lived in. A house that is fifty
years old. A house without life. It was a little sad for me. Yes, we are excited to move and to fill our
house with our smells, but it was strange to have a scentless house. I can’t wait to fill our new house with my
flower garden scentsy, chocolate chip cookies, banana bread and a clean wood
floor on a good day. And don’t forget
the cozy vanilla candle my 14 year old nephew, Ethan, got me for Christmas. He
chose it himself! I’m sure we’ll have the occasional poopy smell, if there is
an accident or the dirty dish smell or the “What is that smell?” smell and it
turns out to be rotten potatoes.
But the smell of home sticks with
me as much as a song full of memories or the touch of my family. The smell can bring back so much. The smell of my mother’s perfume when she was
going on a date. The smell of my Grandma’s
house and her lipstick on a Sunday. The
smell of the muggy, mossy Mississippi filled with mosquitos but still a home to
me. The smell of skunks in Idaho and
when we first smell a skunk on the ride out West and we know we are in Idaho. The smell of Blake’s cologne, the same kind
he wore in college, gets me every time.
Takes me back to the sweet beginning of our life together.
I don’t know what smells my kids will remember
from my house. I don’t know if they will
associate home with smell, but if they do, I would hope it would be a smell of
fresh baked bread and chocolate brownies and candles. And possibly the occasional sick house. However, even with the undesirable smells of
home, they make up a life lived. They
bring back and seal memories to our memory.
And when I am 85 years old one day and smell that fresh baby smell and I
am taken back to my babies and their little onesies and their fresh baby
blankets, I might shed a tear or two but I’ll know that I was blessed to smell
those babies and love them. And the
smells of my life will collect into a muddled, beautiful, crazy, exhausting,
perfect conglomeration.
This is a sweet smell to me because it is from Hailey. She spent her $10 on it for Mother's Day because I saw it in this boutique the other day and didn't want to spend $5 on one candle. It is lavender mint and it will always be special to me.
