An Old Scent

“The sense of smell is the hair-trigger of memory.”

......Mary Stewart

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I have never really liked the smell of lemons, it is a nice scent but it never appealed to me. After she was gone, I found myself longing for it. If you asked me what my favorite scent was five years ago, I wouldn't give you a definite answer but now, I can't have enough of lemons.

I sat at the park quietly, it was one of the days I'd sit by myself because I felt like my life was falling apart. That day, I got rejected by a company I used to work for before I was shot. I tried re-applying but they weren't giving second chances. As I sat down, a familiar scent breezed past my nose, I looked to the left and saw some people talking and laughing.

The scent originated from them, one of them. I walked over there and politely asked the group who wore the perfume that gave off the scent. They pointed to a person amongst them and I asked to talk to her briefly. She seemed friendly, she stood up and made her way to where I stood. I told her I had a friend that used to wear the same perfume and asked her for the name. She was nice enough to tell me, she even added a list of stores I could find it. I thanked her and walked back to the bench I sat on before approaching the group.

Cynthia died five years ago in a car accident, she was my best friend and if I could trade places, I would. She loved the smell of lemons. I never really liked it but it grew on me because I hung out with her most of the time. The scent breezed through my nose again and it sent me back into the past.

I remembered the time she came to my house to tell me she had just discovered a new song and she wanted me to listen to it immediately. She played the song until it was all I could dream about. I remembered the time we sat outside her house fantasizing about our future and how our kids would be best of friends. I remembered how much she loved the rain, she'd slightly open the windows to her room when it was raining, to let little drops of water fall on her face, and it wasn't long before I enjoyed doing it too.

At that moment sitting on the bench, I forgot all my problems, all I could think about was Cynthia and all the times we spent together. After she died, I found myself drawn to the scent of lemon, it was as if I couldn't get enough of it. It became intoxicating, there was something to it I didn't smell before, it was different.

It was about to rain, I left the bench, waved to my acquaintances, and made my way home. I stopped by a store first to check if they had the perfume but they didn't so I picked up a few lemons and went home.

Sitting outside didn't solve my problem but it did give me some relief, Cynthia blessed my day even in death.