Forgotten aromas of sunshine
A short piece reflecting on the associations between olfaction and memories
Have you ever smelt something that reminded you of home?
A sudden warm hug like the soft blanket your mom wrapped around you when you left the aircon on even though your silly little frame shivered in the cold.
Sometimes, it's a salty smell. Like the first time you tasted your tears, and then stood facing the mirror, marvelling at the way your eyes welled up with just a few words someone said.
Sometimes it's a wafting waffery smell, which reminds you of how your little brother threw his head back and laughed when your clothes were covered with crumbs from the biscuits he chucked at you.
On other days, it's a vivid yet delicate fruity smell, just the way her hair smelt the first time you kissed her forehead and realized you had found your favourite person in the universe. The same fruity smell that makes your intestines knot-up and your heart throb faster with just a faint whiff to this day.
Sometimes its a mixture between lavender and incense - at first an odd combination but suddenly a familiar face fuses in, and you think of the kind and gentle wrinkles that adorned your grandma's face, as she handed you a glass of wine and told you she was proud of you.
On other days its a deep, vibrant, and long-lasting scent. Somewhat wooden and burnt yet very warm, like the whiskey your dad would drink or the paperbacks that he would avidly lap up all day.
Isn't it fascinating how all these different aromas can give you the same butterflies in your belly, and make your lips curve upwards involuntarily? They touch you with the weightlessness of the wind and leave a little sparkle in your eyes.
Each time you sniff any of them, you embody that feeling all over again, and it's just the same, because aromas are never forgotten. Not the aromas of sunshine. Not the aromas of home that built you — memory by memory, whiff by whiff, sigh by sigh.
