Whenever I mop the floors (which, mind you, is rare due to my severe lack of housekeeping skills) I am reminded of my grandmother. Not because I was impressed with her shiny kitchen floors, although she did have the cleanest floors this side of the Mississippi, but because apparently scent is one of the strongest senses tied to memory. My grandmother's house smelled of cornflakes and Pine-Sol. The latter of which she used twice a day, thanks to a little genetic disorder called OCD.
I love the way a scent can wrap a memory around you like a worn-in old quilt. My grandfather smelled like a mixture of cigars and Lagerfeld cologne, either one finds me eight years old and sitting in his workshop watching him carve a tiny bed for my dollhouse. The smell of burning leaves in the fall has me huddled up with my little sister in front of the fire, braving the chill until the last of the embers fades away. The salty beach air on a clear summer night falls on me in nearly the same way my first kiss did.
For the past three years I've burnt these candles in the fall/winter because they smell just like Macy's at Christmastime. Each place we've lived I've taken them,from our first apartment to Tennessee to our in-laws basement, and they've made each one feel a little more like home.
I just stocked up on them for our new home, a permanent home. On Saturday, we will go and paint the walls and move some furniture and slowly turn a house from someone else's home into ours. And I will hang our photos and light these candles and rest my head on Jeff's shoulder. And it will be our home.
(They are the Home Inspirations line from Jo-Ann Fabrics called "Apple Spice" and they totally don't smell like apple.)