Sense of smell

I have a crazy sense of smell. Really, really acute and strong. I can smell the instant chicken soup has boiled, I can smell when it is about to snow, and any artificial smell drives me crazy. I walk into a house with those air fresheners plugged in, and it completely overwhelms my nose. I have very strong memories and associations with smells, too. The smell of fresh vegetables stir frying takes me back to my childhood instantly, to the point that if I close my eyes, I am actually in my parent's kitchen, hearing my mother chop the vegetables and listen to NPR. The smell of the ocean relaxes and calms me. The smell of my mother's perfume makes me happy and feel comforted. The smell of lanolin takes me to my father's hand cream that he used in the winter. The milky smell of my baby's breath first thing in the morning is my absolute favorite smell ever. It was with Amira and Yaakov, too, and I am always sad when that ends.
Yaakov seems to have inherited this "gift," as well. A couple of weeks ago as we walked the two blocks to Shul, Yaakov suddenly said, "Oh Mommy, it smells so good, it smells like a pomegranate" and I thought, huh, it actually does, and then 2 seconds later he wrinkled up his nose and said "Uch, now it smells like wet newspaper." Right again, little guy.
This morning I opened up a new face cream (a sample that came with my latest Sephora order, oh do I adore that store) and instantly I thought-this was my Bubby's smell. My beloved Bubby, who died four years ago, and who I still think about every day, and wish that she could have known my children, and even more that they could have known her. She was the most amazing grandmother. Funny and stylish and giving and loving and just indulgent enough. And I put the cream on, and I am smiling and I feel elegant and beautiful and optimistic, just like my Bubby was.