Smells like Home & Mom

This morning when I was running out of my house to go to the grocery store before my transportation for the day was gone, I grabbed a pair of jeans off the bed rail, gave them a whiff (readers, you know exactly what I'm talking about, don't judge), and they had a distinct smell. It was garlic! When making lunch yesterday, I wiped my hands on my pants several times (because I do not have an apron, though now in wasting trees of paper towels I fully see their worth) & now they are all garlic-y.

I love smells. I seem to have never lost my pregnancy nose, and more than once I have been compared to a hound dog when out in public. Don't you have a loved one's kitchen, where the smells just remind you of the most comforting places? Is there a fry seasoning that makes you smile when it whiffs in from the other room (frying butter will make me come a-runnin')?

What I think of most when I think of smells however is my mom, so I wanted to post a bit about her smells. For some people it's photos or certain places that invoke memories of their loved ones, and while I will always be reminded of my mom when I think of the ocean or see her red sweater in a photograph, her smell is what I miss the most. It's been close enough to her departure (3/6) that I still posses items that that are fragrantly reminiscent of her, but far enough away where I have to keep some things sealed to store it. I have her leather jacket that she smoked in ultra thin "toothpicks" in. The putrid outpouring of it's existence, the jacket's smokey smell ruminating through my hall closet and beginning to escape through the cracks. Her pillow that I took from her bed has lost all of it's smell of apple shampoo and pink Dove facial soap, but every now and again (and while I think it's all in my head) I think I catch a whiff of her head on the pillow, maybe next to mine, maybe smiling and tucking her balled fist under her chin and making the snuggle face. I don't really like it when the hubs sleeps on or holds this pillow as I'm afraid that he'll cause the scent to go away even faster, and in his sleep when I awake and he's touching it, I feel resentful.

My hubs and I are owners of only common smells, deodorant, sweat, grass. He invokes a heavy cigarette odor, while I can be bready. My mother smelled like pink Dove soap and Sea Breeze. She had the faint hint of butter when she got mad or annoyed. When she was happy and it was a windy day, she smelled like sea salt. When she wore perfumes, she grew sophisticated and elegant, they permeated through our house and made you take notice. my mom was a tough woman, and if you can imagine such a confliction, she always smelled soft.

Her car, which is parked outside my house, still smells like what makes memories of her. There is a strong lemon car freshener that is masking 2-3 days of chain smoking from her trip driving down to see me for her final farewell. I like to go and just "be" in her car, sniff up some of what it has to offer, finger her knick-knacks and treasure hunt for the possibility of uncovering something new. Yet all in all, the aroma of her car is comforting, and at times I try to curl up in the seats like I would, and did in those final days, in her lap and wish to be comforted and feel her presence. But I do not, so what I'm left with is her smells, and only until that fades too. She would think this NYR humorous and would send me funny trinkets to motivate me, or just to be that clever gift giver. I wish she could see me now, cooking and making my kitchen smell something like a home should.