comfort

Aromas are memories. Something drew me to the orange spice tea at the market yesterday. I could smell familiarity. Just brewed my first cup and was absolutely overwhelmed by the journey it took me on. I was instantly thrown back to my 20s. That's the smell of youth. I didn't realize it until just a few minutes ago when I breathed in that first warm sip. It's the tea of my girlhood. When I was young and liberal and fresh with hopes, I drank that tea. I wrote poetry late into the night and pondered my immediate future while savoring that brew. I read Kurt Vonnegut and worked on macrame. It was my drink of choice, long forgotten. I couldn't remember it until this very moment when it flooded into my nose and fogged up my brain. A simple smell was a lovely gift. Certain aromas conjure up specific memories for all of us. One of my favorites is the smell of a swampy pond. When I was in college, I worked at Baskin-Robbins (no surprise). Late at night, I'd pack a quart on my moped and mosey along home, about a 20 minute ride on rural roads. Every night I'd pass a swampy place. It smelled of wet grass, stagnant pond water, and fresh night air. It was heavenly. Made me feel peaceful. To this day it is my favorite smell. It's fragrant and genuine. It's quiet and earthy. It's cinnamon, puppies, and baby powder. It's the stuff that makes memories that last for a lifetime.