Those
beautiful,
overwhelming smells that remind you of your
childhood, whether it be good, or bad memories. I still recall the scent of my
grandparents old farmhouse, it almost makes me
cry the way I feel inside when I smell even something as simple as
noxema, an item my grandmother always had in her
washroom.
Sometimes,
when the wind is blowing just right, even in a city filled with modern
heating systems, I still smell the
wood smoke from distant fireplaces, and it reminds me of the
log house my family used to live in.
My favourite childhood smell, one that still lingers, is
undoubtedly that of my mothers
sweat, as odd as that may seem. It reminds me of how hard she worked, and still does work, to keep us
happy,
grounded (in a good way), and to make us feel
loved.