There are aromas that are stuck in my brain, and the very thought of them makes me reiminisce. Some are very faint, yet distinct – like the smell of my Granddaddy’s old, green car. He died when I was in high school, but I am certain that if I smelled that scent again, I would know it in an instant. Others, like the smell of freshly-washed baby, aren’t specific to one person but still bring happy thoughts. Some are food smells, and this time of year brings out the most wonderful ones.

The scent that is on my mind right now is Nathan’s faded Dr Pepper t-shirt. I took it from his closet when we were cleaning out his house, and I keep it in my dresser drawer. I don’t wear it; I just like to hold it and smell it. I haven’t taken it out of the drawer in a while, but yesterday evening I was having a melancholy moment and just wanted to hold Nathan’s shirt and breathe him in again. I was so disappointed to find that it has lost its scent. It just smelled like my other clothes.

Maybe that sounds silly, but I would hazard a guess that I’m not the only one who has kept clothes from a loved one just to smell them again. When I smelled his t-shirt, it made me feel close to him again. I could remember a little more clearly what it felt like to have his strong arms wrapped around my shoulders, to feel his prickly beard nuzzled into the top of my head because he knew how annoying it was to me! I can remember how it felt to press my face against his chest; I just took for granted how he smelled. Now that he’s gone, every sensory recollection seems important. It’s been 10 months – today – since he died. I guess I should have expected that his scent wouldn’t linger forever on an old t-shirt. Oh, how I would love to hug him now.