It's funny to me how smells and memories are interconnected. The slightest scent can trigger such precious memories. For example, onions. I can no longer chop an onion without laughing. "Laughing? Genevieve, don't you mean crying?" No, what I wrote was right: I laugh when I chop an onion because of the fun memory it brings to mind.
You see, my Grandpa on my mother's side is the sweetest little old tease. One day, a couple of summers ago, he wanted to mow the front lawn of their little farmhouse in Missouri. Granny didn't want him to (I mean, my Grandpa is NOT a young man anymore). She was worried that he might get hurt. But Grandpa insisted and insisted until Granny said, in that voice all grandma's use when they've had it, "All right, Stephen! But you stay out of my onion patch!" Grandpa gave a dramatic "huff" and with a twinkle in his eye, he went about getting the mower ready to go.
Granny went about, too, cooking and cleaning and washing, in that neat and exact way grandma's do, the purring of the old push mower in the background. Occasionally, she'd peek out the little window over the kitchen sink that looks into the front lawn, to check on Grandpa. He was still mowing along, whistling whatever came to his mind.
A short time later, a horrible smell started to filter through the house. At first Granny thought something was burning, but she checked the meal she had heating on the stove and that wasn't it... Maybe something in the fridge needed to be thrown out. She investigated, opening every tubberware and saran-wrapped bowl she could find...That wasn't it either, The smell in all its pungency was only getting stronger. Granny held a tissue over her mouth and nose, trying to keep from inhaling the fumes. As a matter of fact, they were making her eyes fill with tears. Tears! But that had to mean...onions!
She hurried as fast as she could to the front door. Swinging the screen open with a CLANG, she saw Grandad with the ole lawnmower chugging away, eagerly mowing down her onion patch, a big boyish grin stretching out his wrinkles, great big tears streaming down his cheeks!
Fortunately for me onions aren't the only scent that digs up such fun memories. As a matter of fact, I've just started working for ScentSationals, the wickless scented waxes and wax warmers that you see in Walmart, at Hobby Lobby, and online at http://www.scentsationals.com/, and my office is right above the production line. Every day a new fragrance seeps through the floorboards and I'm bombarded with the nostalgic aromas of Spice Cake or Sizzlin' Cinnamon, or whatever else we produce that day. In fact, after work, my mom always asks what we were working on, usually right after she says something like, "You smell like a slice of pumpkin pie!" My coworkers and I joke about smelling like cinnamon bears and other various things, depending on what's cookin' downstairs that day!