Pictures that have been taken in the past are always good reminders of those memories that we all cherish and keep close to our hearts. Sometimes when we are bored we look back through our old photo albums and reminisce about vacations past, your wedding day, or pictures of your children when they were just little babies. Pictures are great for this, but they arent the only thing that triggers memories. You sense of smell will do just the same for you, sometimes with an even greater sense of rememberance. Call them what you will, aromas, odors, or just a fragrance of some kind, we all have certain smells that link us to some deep memory, sometimes memories that we forget we even had. The smell of the air near the beach, the smell of river you fish at, the aroma of your mothers cooking (Kraft Mac N Cheese and Pop Tarts...yummm..just kidding mother!), all these will bring you back to certain moments in life that will make you smile, cry, or just terrify you, Speaking of terrified...
Every year in late august, always in the morning for me, the air takes on this certain smell. Its the smell of the first day of school. I can't explain how it smells, but I will tell you that it always gives me this nervous feeling in my gut. It could be the collective odor of millions of school children all with that same nervous feeling. Perhaps I'm the only weirdo who smells it. Even now, when I'm walking my kids to school on that exciting first day, I still get the butterflies. Maybe its because I'm nervous for them, but mostly I believe its just bringing up old memories of those days when I was their age. Those wonderful memories of those dreadful first days.
Red Door perfume. That was the fragrance she was wearing. I'll never forget it. No, I'm not talking about when I lost my virginity or anything like that you sickos. I'm referring to this girl who I met at a concert once. I met her, but she never met me. Well sort of....let me just tell the story and you'll see what I mean. A group of us went to an all day concert at The Meadows in Hartford. We were sitting on the lawn just enjoying the music when all of a sudden we noticed that this younger girl in the group sitting below us just collapsed. Her friends were too far gone to know what to do and just started freaking out so we had to step in and do something. I ran down and picked her up and just started running as fast as I could towards the first aid area. When I first looked at her I thought how heavy could she be, she was tiny, but the weight I was carrying felt like I was carrying a dead body. She was cold to the touch and I had no idea if she was breathing or not. As we got closer to the medics she starting to gag and up came whatever she had in her which I was relieved to see since now I knew I wasn't just transporting a corpse. The paramedics swooped in took her from me and drove her away on a cart. I never knew her name or what happened to her, but I will never forget her smell. When ever I happen to catch a whiff of Red Door as I pass through the fragrance area in a mall or something all I can wonder is what happened to that innocent little girl. She had to have been ok. I have to believe that. I guess I'll never know.
Mud has its own fragrance that generally speaking is just the smell of mud, but not to me. My grandparents in Canada had hundreds of acres of land (yes had. long story, maybe some other time). The land covered areas of woods and fields and was absolutely breath taking. Believe it or not, the mud smell of this land was different than any other mud I ever new. It was kind of gross actually. Had a weird bitter sweetness to it. Anyway, our family would always take rides through this land on four wheelers or on a tractor, whatever the occasion called for. One week I went to visit my grandparents with my dad and girlfirend at the time. It happened to be the same time when my cousin Mike and my aunt were up for a visit. The weather wasnt the best but there was a day when my girlfriend, Mike and I all decided to go for a four wheel ride. Only two could fit on the quad so we attached a small trailer for Mike to sit in. Everything was going great until we got deeper in to the woods. The mud was thick and hard to navigate through but I was doing the best I could. But then we got stuck. I figured I'd just give it all I got and gunned the throttle. We went nowhere so I did it again. Through the sound of the engine I could hear someone faintly calling my name. It was Mike. I turned around to see what he wanted to find him covered from head to toe in mud. In my determined efforts to get us unstuck I failed to remember what mud does when wheels are spinning in it. I wish I could say that I showed immediate remorse and jumped off to help poor Mike but no, I laughed my ass off instead. When we got back to the house his mother, my dear matante, let him have it for ruining his new Whalers jacket (if it was a canadiens jacket the mud would have known better than to touch it!). So Mike, consider this my apology. Matante, it was my fault his jacket got ruined. I would have said so then, but I was too busy laughing hysterically in the next room.
There was this one time when someone asked me to write something for them. They wanted me to describe a cold winter breeze. When I thought of what I wanted to write, I couldn't help but describe the beautiful aroma that breeze carries. Don't get me wrong, I hate the cold and I hate snow but this I do not hate. Whenever this scent brushes past me the memories of Christmas come almost as quick as the chill from that cold wind. I remember going outside to scan the night sky for Rudolph's red nose on christmas eve at my grandmothers house because someone heard on the radio that Santa was flying over New Britain at any moment. I remember waking up at some ungodly hour (I was always the first one up) to go and survey the presents under the tree on Christmas morning. That is always a wonderful sight. No lights on in the house but the ones on the tree. Each little light acting as a spotlight for the boxed up surprises all neatly wrapped below them. Even though I was tempted to sneak a peak at what was inside, for some reason I would always just sit and stare. That morning has to be the best morning of the year for a child. Hell, I'll admit it, its still the best morning of the year for me. That day is quickly approaching and I'm willing to bet that I'm up before the kids.
Now I know that each and everyone of you have memories locked away that are just waiting to be reopened by something. Do yourself a favor though. Make sure you stop and smell the roses. You might find yourself lost in the good old days for a few moments.
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