Thursday, August 19, 2010

Scent of a woman

Not the movie.
My sense of smell evokes memories more than my other senses. I especially noticed this after my mother died and I was sorting through her personal belongings. Opening a drawer in a dresser, or even opening a photo album would bring her right into my brain. She was about the same size that I am and many of her clothes fit me. When I would put on one of her sweaters it was like she had wrapped her arms around me. The scent is not a specific cologne or soap or detergent; it is simply her scent. She died in 2004 and her scent has almost vanished.
My aunt Marge died last summer. We are using her bedroom furniture in our guest room, and when I open the door to that room, I am a young girl and I am back in her home.
Last week we moved my mother-in-law to assisted living in the retirement home where she has been for almost six years. It is a smaller apartment, so we have moved a lot of her belongings to our home while we are sorting out what she will keep and what she will give up. Her scent is here too, but so is she. I wish it wouldn't make me cry.