Smells like home

On the train this morning I had the strongest deja vu I've had in a very long time. I was sitting listening to my music watching the world go by when I realised I was suddenly feeling really safe and comfortable and couldn't work out why. It took me a while to realise that I recognised the aftershave of the guy who had just sat down behind me, and slightly longer again to realise it wasn't the same one The Drummer wears. It took about another 5 minutes pondering, scooting through my mind all the different guys I knew and hugged regularly (that sounds worse than it is...) and couldn't for the life of me work out where I knew it from. It wasn't until Black And Gold came on my MP3 much later on that I realised it was the same aftershave the Landlord of Dreams (who, with his wife, housed me for free for a term before Christmas last year where I had nowhere to live and no money for rent) Their home became mine, and that smell became home because of the welcome and love and acceptance I had there.

Smells are strangely evocative things - fresh grass equalling the summer, even if its still only March. The precious talc-y baby smell left on your clothes after cuddling the kids. The smell of The Drummer's parents house meaning total relaxation and peace. Smells always mean something; they always come with memories.

Home has many smells these days - The Drummer's aftershave, my parents house when I get home after being away, St Johns when you're the first one in on a Saturday. Each and every one has its memory; each one is home to me.

Love, etc.
xx