Aromas

"When nothing else subsists from the past, after the people are dead, after the things are broken and scattered – the smell and taste of things remain poised a long time, like souls – bearing resiliently, on tiny and almost impalpable drops of their essence, the immense edifice of memory" – Marcel Proust, The Remembrance of Things Past.

When I was little, I used to love to play in my grandparents backyard. They had these huge azaleas that ran down the property line of one side of their yard. My sister and I would run behind them and hide, peering out from behind the azalea jungle ... imagining I suppose all sorts of wild and wonderful places. The azaleas that I've planted as an adult have not had a scent - they have been small, tight compact azaleas like Gumpo's, all I've had the space for in my yards - but the azaleas that my grandparents had gave off a lovely light scent from their vibrant purple flowers.

Here on base, for the past couple of weeks everywhere I walk I am transported back in time. The scent of my grandparents yard has traveled across a country and the Pacific Ocean and surrounds me like a light summer cotton purple blanket - whatever this particular type of azalea is (and I'm not entirely sure it is ... it seems like I recall from my master gardening days it may be from the rhododendron family) everywhere I turn here on base I smell my childhood. The memories have made me smile as I remember my sister and I having fun together in much more simple times and they have also taken my breath away as I realize just how much I still miss my grandmother even though she's been gone for 11 years.

Your sense of smell is the sense that is most closely attached to memories - I can certainly vouch for that. With each whiff, my memory has gone into recall mode, there have been times in these past two weeks that I've stood still, closed my eyes and have clung to the aroma of childhood for only a brief moment and been carried back to a more simple time. Inspiring.