A Scent and a Memory

Sometimes a scent, like a tender breeze, will circle me and embrace me and bring me back to a specific moment in my life, to a memory of someone who’s no longer with me.

When my Aunt Jen died, I was in grammar school. I don’t remember much about her, but I remember the scent in her bathroom. It had a distinct fragrance.

As a child I wasn’t too fond of it, often holding my breath or taking short breaths not to inhale it entirely whenever I used the bathroom. I remember complaining to my mother about it, and she told me it was Aunt Jen’s scented soap.

Every time I visited, it was there, a part of the bathroom scenery, a part of her. I never got used to its aroma.

A few years after Aunt Jen died, I was walking along when I smelled something. A strong distinct fragrance seemed to have surrounded me. I knew instantly it was Aunt Jen’s soap scent.

Where did it come from?

I couldn’t find the source. I assumed it was from someone passing me by who bathed that morning with that soap. I wanted to know the soap’s name.

But then I thought maybe it was Aunt Jen visiting me from the spirit world to say hello, to let me know she was watching over me, and using the scent was her way of grabbing my attention.

The moment was fleeting but there was no doubt what it was, and a parade of memories suddenly brought me back to being a child visiting her apartment for the holidays.

Warm memories. Family memories.

Since then, the scent hasn’t made another appearance.

It’s now been over thirty years, but l know if it comes again, I’ll recognize it immediately... and I’ll breathe in deeply.