The Power of Olfactory

Sometimes, on a more rare occasion than I would prefer, my sense of smell takes me to places in my memories. A reminder of kindergarten, the homes of lovely friends, a holiday celebrated with family and many other things.

But there are 3 very distinct reoccurring scent transportations that I have experienced in my last 10 years or so of life. 

2 of which are the smells of my Grandpa Buck and my Pa. Grandpa Buck smelled of coffee and old house and summer. Pa smelled of gasoline and oil and hard work.

 This is the only digital picture I have of Grandpa Buck, taken with my first ever digital camera.

 

 This is my favorite picture of Grandpa Buck.

 

My Pa, such a cute old man.

 

This is a young Pa, and my favorite picture.

 

The first time I went to the IHOP on Hillsborough Street in Raleigh I almost couldn't control a fit of tears. I opened the door and was hit by an overwhelming smell that was strikingly similar to that of my grandpa Buck. Since selling the farm, I hadn't smelled the smell in a few years. I have caught it a few other times in various people and places but never as strong as the IHOP on Hillsborough Street. 

The smell of Pa happens more often. Sometimes when I pump gas and accidentally drip on my shoe I get to enjoy the smell of Pa for a few days. Whenever I attempt changing my own oil I smell Pa. He would be proud of his grand girl that wants to even attempt changing oil. I still remember the look of joy and pride on his face when he found out I was learning to drive a stick shift for work. He was proud of his girls and that smell reminds me of that. 

The third smell is of a country. The country of Haiti. I guess it's sort of weird to smell a country. But sometimes, most often on a warm sunny day, my nose transports me to that small, impoverished, dirty and beautiful country.  The smell is of warmth and fire (and maybe garbage). Each time it hits I stop and look around to examine the landscape and make sure I have not transported back to that place. 

 

It is amazing to me how our design is capable of this function, that scents are so tied to memories it can stop us in our tracks. One small waft of a smell can take you to places you may have even forgotten existed. 

To smell the real deal and be in the presence of either of my grandpas or back in Haiti is something that I would gladly pay a high price for. But for now, I am at least glad I have the memories and the olfactory senses to take me back to places I sometimes forget.