Olfactory Memory

The strongest sense trigger of memory for me is the olfactory. Certain smells bring up the past so vividly and instantaneously. I become frozen for that moment, engulfed in the memory as if wrapped in a tight blanket that prevents me from moving. It is the most profound experience.

For example, every time I pass a honeysuckle vine, I am instantly transported to my childhood neighbor’s driveway. I’m talking to Mrs. Mortelle, who at sixty-five was still working on the green chain at the local mill and then walking up a two kilometre hill to get home every day after work with her black metal lunch box tucked under her arm. She was the sweetest, nicest old lady to me, who always offered cookies and milk. She was French Canadian widow and tough as nails, I now realize.

There is a particular smell of ice when puddles freeze over that always transports me to my school yard early in the morning, waiting for the other kids to arrive before the bell. I don’t know why I was there so early, but I was fascinated by the frozen puddle and kept running my rubber boots over it like I was skating.

Cedar hedges still invoke hiding in my friend’s yard playing kick-the-can with all the kids on the street. It is one of my fondest memories, as we spent most summer nights trying to sneak up and free the others. Kicking that can was the most powerfully liberating feeling in the world.

Pink eraser smell puts me right back in my desk in grade six. I am writing a story about a mythical creature that looks like a Pegasus, except it’s glowing lime green and it can travel through time. I called it the Crumplecorn and I remember my teacher calling me up to his desk to tell me he liked the picture I drew of it in my notebook. It was a happy moment because I adored him.

What smells invoke profound memory for you?