NewI am a collector of memories. I find it difficult to throw away stuff because almost everything reminds me of something or someone.
Each and every storage area in my house seems to have a special collection of memories. The bedside table has letters on which the ink has started to fade away. The toy box has Lego pieces, transformers, planes, and cars and helicopters the boys played with when they were babies. Piled high, in two storage boxes, are photographs of places and people who are dear to me. Dresses that may fit when I’m slimmer, that may come back in fashion at some point of time, and those that my mother so painstakingly embroidered for me, hang in the deep recesses of the closet. A small, blue, plastic chair that the children used when they were toddlers, is hidden away behind the fishing rods that the boys and their father used when they went through the “fishing and bonding” phase!
The recipe bookshelf is more than a collection of recipes. The often-used pages of some of those books have splattering of oil and greasy fingerprints and remind me of the successful and disastrous culinary adventures in the kitchen. The magnets on the fridge are a reminder of our travels and our holidays. The wooden clogs from Amsterdam stick close to the London cab, the head of Queen Nefertiti, a rickshaw in Hong Kong and the Toronto skyline.
But, my absolute favourite collection of memories is the one that I carry around with me, wherever I go. It’s my smell collection!
I’m not referring to the smells found in beautifully crafted, crystal bottles. I mean the everyday smells that spark a connection to a memory.
The whiff of baby powder transports me to a time of innocence, days and nights that were planned around the waking hours of the children and soft, warm bodies that needed to be picked up and cuddled.
The smell of paint takes me back to the day I entered the new house my parents had moved into while I was away at University. When I smell fresh paint, I am 18 again and I see myself standing in front of a yellow wall of an airy, south facing room. The lace curtains move as the wind blows and the clouds in the sky herald the monsoons.
The smell of a certain after-shave reminds me of Sunday afternoons at home. I remember sitting at the dining table and my father would emerge from his room, looking very relaxed, wearing his crisp, white, Sunday home clothes, smelling wonderful! We would then wait for my mother to lift the lid from the pot that she had at that moment brought in from the kitchen. The steam would fog up my father’s glasses and the room would be infused with the aromas of her wonderful cooking!
When I open the bottle of my favourite perfume, I travel back in time to my first trip to Dubai, with my husband. I can hear the sounds of the children skating in the ice rink of the hotel where we were staying. I can hear the radio playing Tina Turner’s Private Dancer and I can remember watching the sun set in the calm waters of the sea.
The wonderful thing about my “smell collection” is that it always evokes positive memories. It’s a calming walk down memory lane when I am with my collection! Not only am I transported to another time by certain smells but they also bring alive the sounds and feel of that experience.
And unlike the other memorabilia that I have all over my house, I never have to bother to think of a place to store my smell collection!
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