A Familiar Smell
Several years ago, when my mother passed away, I didn’t talk to my grandfather for several months. Then, finally, after getting my head on straight, I helped him in taking care of himself. When he died, he left his house to my niece who sold it. I revisited the property to ask for permission to get cuttings from two of the fruit trees—a fig tree and a mango tree—that my grandfather loved.
The owners invited me in for coffee and as we sat in the den, I was enveloped by my grandmother’s perfume, which I hadn’t smelled in over 10 years. The owners said that that had never happened before the owners said they never had that happen before. Then, in the living room, I was enveloped by the smell of cherry smoke.
My grandfather used to smoke it, but none of the current residents did. No one could explain it.