The memories of scent, that's, lingered on…translated…
There are often, the residual scents of life that are, meaningful to us. Some were deep, but we can't recall when they'd come to us, and as we got older, we can't, ever, bump into that scent, again, only the memories of the scent that's, stayed. And we can only, deduct, that it's something we'd smelled, when we were, still, inside our, mothers.
With the coming of age, the scents had come and gone, and I'd had, too many to count, but, if I were to tell one that's, deeply ingrained in my mind, then, I'd, always recalled three distinct smell in my maternal grandmother's room when I was a child. The smells were unique, and, conflicted—the scent of urine, the aloe from my grandmother's hair, and the Taiwan cypress.
My grandmother's house was a traditional Chinese mansion, between the red cypress bed, there was a huge bucket for urine, the scent would get strong, and grow weak, based off of how high the urine got inside. They didn't have the chemicals that made the hair oils out of, and aloe would be used for it instead, by my, grandmother.
The aloe would, mix with the sweat from her hair, and, made a unique smell. And her bed, cabinets, dresser, were the primary smell that's stayed unchanged; if the former was a neighbor who'd visited to chit chat, then, the scent of the red cypress would be, the owner.
The years came and went, the three scents, slowly, went, away, vanishing from the human memories, only when I'd gone to visit the old places, the homes of ancient writers, or the museums, or bump into the smell unexpectedly in an old place. I'd searched for the owner of my grandmother's bedroom through the scent, for my, grandmother.
So, this is a deeply rooted, sensory memory that came from your, childhood years, and what you'd associated with this scent, was the memories of your, grandmother, and that's why, every single time you smelled that red cypress, the memories of your grandmother came, surfacing back, up to your mind.
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