A Sense of Memory

I have always had a keen sense of smell, and have always attached memory to smells, something that can be most useful in difficult situations. This ability draw upon different smells which therefore provoke memories brings at times great joy but also crippling sadness for what once was.

Being in America there are many new smells and many different memories all of which are combining to create a sense of identity and place, my identity and my place. But then every now and then I get a whiff of something with a historic, pre USA fragrance and this week has seen two such times.

I received in the post this week a gift from my Nana; it was a very lovely warm and soft scarf, along with a card. I received it on Tuesday evening when I had just got back from spending a great day with Tim and Kat in NYC, I was really upset as had just said goodbye to Tim and was not sure when I was going to see him again. It was perfect, as if my nana and God had decided today would be the day that I was going to feel a greater sense of love than I had for some time. I opened the package and the first thing that hit me was the smell, the smell of my nana, her house, of the last few years, of a sense of belonging and the knowledge that I am missed and loved. Thank you Nana!

The second time was the day after when Mike who is an older volunteer at the school and a great source of inspiration not least due to his personal commitment to social justice and life, gave us a baked ham. A baked ham, that evoked a sense of home once again and memories of people who have gone before me.