The other day I was walking home from school and I smelt something that brought me back home. I couldn’t identify it exactly, and I still can’t. Maybe it really was a whiff of air from America, crossing oceans and continents to reach me. The smell caught me so off guard that I stopped walking in the middle of the street. I cow nearly ran me over, but swerved at the last minute and missed me.
I glanced around wildly for the origin of the smell, like a schizophrenic chasing visions that aren’t real. Since then I’ve been racking my brain for what it might be. They say that smell is more tightly bound to memory than any of the other senses. This wasn’t the first time that I’ve been ‘haunted’ by a smell from home…
Last November I smelt gummy bears. Yeah, gummy bears. I’m not sure I ever realized that gummy bears have a smell, but they do. It’s strongest right when you open the bag.
To whomever reads this,
I sincerely hope you never have to smell something you love when there’s no way that you’ll be able to get that thing for several months. It’s something that could make a grown man cry…
