Bronwyn, Revisited

Last night at Dillon's final wrestling meet (Yay!), every once in a while, above the bouquet of Eau de Teen-Age Wrestler hanging heavy in the air, I caught just a whiff of my girlfriend Bronwyn who (whom?) I haven't seen in over a year. I don't know if it was the perfume or shampoo or soap of the woman in front of me, but I caught myself breathing deeply of the sweat-humid air in the gym, just to have that one recollection-synapse fire in my brain. For that one brief second, the 4 years Bronwyn & I played together in Japan flooded back to me: tambourines and Tom Jones, Tequila Shots and Tiaras; the Electric Slide and Girl-Talk, Hawaii and Nagano.

And then the woman got up and moved.

Do you suppose I was being creepy? I don't remember actually leaning in to sniff her hair... I'm sure Tater would have stopped me before I got to that point.

But it got me to thinking: How powerfully linked to memory is our sense of smell that it can instantly transport us to another time and place?

Boxwoods always remind me of living in San Diego on A St., on the corner of Balboa Park (not in UTC or Chula Vista, just downtown).

Perm solution always reminds me of visiting my mom's shop when I was a girl.

Gun cleaning fluids are a Saturday afternoon at home in the family room with Dad.

Chorine in an indoor pool takes me back to high school dive practice and Gretchen and Shelly.

Peach candles remind me of the Hallmark store I worked at in Alabama.

Whisky = Grandpa

Grey Flannel Cologne = Dale

Apricots = Japan in the fall

Pier One spicy red candles = Annie

And there's a spicy/salty scent in the air when you live close to the ocean. That smell always takes me back to my grandma's house in Orlando.

I love the flood of memories that ride upon the waves of scent. It links us to our past in tangible and unexpected ways. It opens the door to memories that I might not have recalled otherwise, or not recalled as vividly perhaps. Last night at the meet, I almost surely wouldn't have reminisced about Bronwyn and Japan, and even if I did think about her, it would have been in a much more superficial "Damn, I should call her" kind-of-way. But it was the intense memory of her perfume that brought her flooding back to me and made the memory of her Real and Absolute and it made our Fun Time together seem not so very long ago.

And that was nice. It made me feel all warm and fuzzy and smiley inside.

I miss you, Girlfriend.