The Scents of Home

Have you ever caught a scent of something and it instantly transported you to a vivid memory flooded with nostalgia? Maybe it’s the scent of a strong floral candle reminding you of your childhood home, or maybe it's the soft scent of rain reminding you of a fierce storm. If you have, you’re experiencing the phenomenon called olfactory memory, which is when your brain connects scent to specific collections of your memory. 

For military brats, olfactory memory is more than just a nostalgic flashback, it’s a constant reminder of the many places we’ve called home.

For a long time, I had many mixed feelings about olfactory memory. Some memories brought me comfort, and it was nice to relive some old forgotten childhood memories. However, some scents would remind me of moving again, the thought of losing my friends, leaving behind another home, and even my school. They brought me nothing but stress.

The smell of freshly cut grass didn't remind me of spring, but it reminded me of the exhausted feelings of getting out of my car after a five-hour drive. The smell of McDonald's breakfast didn't make me hungry; instead it made me feel nauseous, reminding me of the grueling hours I had to sit in the car while carsick.

And then, COVID took away my sense of smell entirely, which in the moment made me feel relieved. At first, I didn’t realize how much I relied on my smell. I ended up burning a lot of eggs and cookies due to it. If I had lived alone, I probably would have burned the whole house down. However, slowly but surely, I started to gain my sense of smell back. I could start to smell candles, perfumes, and even the smell of burning eggs again. It was amazing to finally gain my smell back. However, that meant experiencing olfactory memory again too. 

Since the process was slow, I slowly became accustomed to certain scents and the memories they carried, even the bad ones. Maybe it’s because I’ve grown older and time heals wounds, but I think it’s because I started to appreciate the journey and experience of moving. It made me see everything in a new light.

Eventually, instead of associating McDonald’s breakfast with carsickness, I started to see fun times I got to goof around and eat junk food with my parents. Even the smell of freshly cut grass started to remind me of the moments when I got to relax and sit in the grass after finally getting out of the car. After a while, I started to enjoy smelling all the candles, perfumes, and flowers in every store, even if I ended up feeling sick. 

Memory, like scent, isn’t something we can control. But we can choose how we see and feel it. In the end, I’ve realized that even the bittersweet memories are worth holding onto because they can end up becoming our most cherished memories too.