What Do Thanksgiving Turkeys, Pine Sol and Clean Cotton Have in Common?

I have a confession to make. I don’t really like turkey that much. And I’m not a great big fan of pumpkin pie. What I do like is the idea of a Thanksgiving turkey roasting in the oven and a hot pumpkin pie cooling on the counter. And what I like even more are the aromas that saturate the air when the poultry is cooking and the pie is baking. As I drink in the scents of the bread with onion and celery stuffing steaming inside the bird, my mind shifts to a lazy holiday many years ago in the cozy little home of my youth. I can picture Mom puttering around the kitchen wearing an apron decorated with gold and orange leaves. And I can hear Dad snoring on the recliner after drifting off during the afternoon football broadcast.

Fragrance is a powerful memory. For some people, the smell of pine means Christmas trees. But for me, the fragrance of pine harkens back to spring cleaning. It reminds me of a cool April morning when Mom would fling open the windows and doors to welcome spring. A quiet breeze would roll against the drapes. Then Mom would spend the day scrubbing the floors and walls with Pine Sol until the entire house smelled like a forest glade. By the time she was done, the windows and walls twinkled like diamonds and the whole house felt fresh.

In the spring time, I also love to bask in the smell of lilac. It immediately transports me to the rows of lavender trees that lined the backside of our property and the countless spring mornings I spent humming a tune while resting beneath the branches. When I sense lilac, I can almost see the sun beams trickling through the green leafy tree limbs and dancing in the grass. It makes me want to skip work and spend the day chasing butterflies instead.

Fresh laundry is another aroma that makes me smile. Recently, Ken purchased a Yankee candle that advertised its scent as “clean cotton.” We lit it in the laundry room and I found myself reliving a memory in Nana’s backyard. I could see Nana standing nearby shaking out white sheets and beige towels and carefully pinning them to a thin rope line. While Nana worked, a small brown sparrow perched on the fence and called softly to its friends. Then Nana left the laundry to waft in a gentle wind until it was ready for her to neatly fold into her small yellow basket.

Sometime this February, as the wind rocks our house and the snow swirls on the driveway, I’ll heat up cups of steaming hot chocolate for my kids. We’ll pile marshmallows on top and then sit together at the kitchen table laughing and dunking cookies into our drinks while we play Candyland. Then, years from now, when my kids are grown, they’ll revisit that memory every time they smell a cup of cocoa.