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My Aunt's Perfume
My favorite aunt has worn the same perfume since I was little. Even though she is my favorite, I don’t see her nearly as often as I would like. That is mostly because she lives in a different city, far down in central Mexico. I only get to see her when we’re on vacation, and since vacations are often memorable times, I’ve grown to relate the smell of her perfume to many good moments. It has a certain flowery, fresh, maybe even acid smell to it, and it’s fairly uncommon as well; I’ve only smelled it on very few people over the course of my life. It’s curious, though; I’ve never seen her put the perfume on. I don’t even know the name, or the brand. It’s almost as if it isn’t a perfume at all, but a scent that appears spontaneously in the air when a happy memory is being created. Even more curious is the fact that I don’t actually like the way the perfume smells. I would never buy that perfume myself, let alone wear it for an entire decade. However, I really enjoy smelling it. Doesn’t that make sense? Isn’t it great how we can enjoy the way some things make us feel, even though we don’t like the thing itself? My aunt’s perfume, omnipresent and everlasting, has latched itself on to so many good memories of mine. I’ve smelt similar scents on other people, in other places, and every time I do, it brings me back to a happy moment in my life. Sometimes it reminds me of Christmas: the carols floating in the chilly air, ice-skating under colored lights, and the smell of dinner in the oven. Other times it reminds me of airports at dawn, of being drowsy with sleep, and yet so excited to get on a plane that will take you to a whole new world. It can make me think of museums, tourist maps and subways. Sometimes, however, when I’m in the mood for a calmer memory, my aunt’s perfume reminds me of quiet nights in her apartment, when the family is sitting around her dinner table. It’s not a holiday, no reason to be together other than playing board games and catching up on all the things that happened while we were apart. So, while I might not love my aunt’s perfume choices, I love that she hasn’t changed them.
