Smells of Home

For Gina’s prompt at dVerse:  Comfort smells of childhood.

Smells of Home
“As you move through this life and this world, you change things slightly; you leave marks behind, however small. And in return, life–and travel–leaves marks on you. Most of the time, those marks–on your body or on your heart–are beautiful. Often, though, they hurt.” Anthony Bourdain

Ivory soap – pure white and floating.
My mother scrubbing me clean and later
Mme scrubbing myself clean.
My father shaving off bits with his pocket knife
and putting into a bowl of water to melt
and then blowing soap bubbles.

Fresh laundry – the smell of sun
and later starch, ironed and fresh.
Diving onto the bed and rolling from one side
to the other – reveling in the clean crisp scent.

My grandmother’s lipstick and face powder,
my father’s Old Spice,
my mother’s clean fresh smell
as she came in from the outside.

Smells of cooking fresh green beans,
frying chicken, freshly baked bread,
freshly squeezed lemon juice into the
pitcher of sweet tea,
the fresh coconut cake, the scent
of tomatoes fresh from the vine.

Cedar and pine for Christmas,
oranges and cloves.
Carnations spicy and rich for Valentine’s day
and magnolias in a crystal punch bowl,
roses and honeysuckle and newly mown grass
In the summer.

Smells of childhood take me back to happy times.
Smells to remind me the dead are always with us.

%d bloggers like this: