The sun streams through my west facing bedroom window, bright and blinding. I can sense it through my still closed eyelids and rebel at the thought of opening even one of them. I wish I could get up without moving. I feel my full bladder. The thought of placing my cold toes on the warm window sill crosses my mind.
I remember that I don’t have school today and a small smile starts to form on my lips. The saliva begins to pool in my mouth as it hits me; the scent of the morning and day, meandering down the hallway and wafting under my bedroom door like a butter and onion breeze.
I glance at my alarm clock with one blurry eye and the time on the clock tells me that the turkey has already been in the oven for a while. I quickly open my other eye and take a deep breath, inhaling the air that is now fully scented by my mother’s cooking.
My heart starts to beat faster at the thought of future odors like cinnamon, nutmeg and pumpkin as well as yeasty rolls and sweet, sugary yams. I can feel the hunger in my gut now and wonder what’s for breakfast.
My stomach forces the rest of me into high gear and I sit up, push the covers off of me with urgency and hop out of the bed in a rush. I dash to the door and as I open it my eyes burn a little, now fully accosted by the oniony smell that fills the entire house. I can taste the stuffing already.
As I approach the kitchen her back is to me, her apron tied too tight. I see the dark orange pie filling pooling into the crust. Memories of every childhood Thanksgiving come rushing back as I watch her and take in yet another deep breath of all the smells melding together to make our afternoon meal.
She senses my presence.
“Hey sleepy head, you want something to eat?”
“I’ll take that pie,” I say as I walk over to her, hugging her from the side, realizing the smells have permeated her clothing too.
“Smells good, doesn’t it?”
I nod and go to the pantry for the cereal, scanning my options. I don’t want to ruin my appetite for later…
These same smells still fill my home even if I am not at my parents for Thanksgiving since my husband and I make our stuffing the same way as my mother, starting with chopped onions sauteed in butter…
For many of us a scent or a sound can bring back a rush of remembrances.
This week, your memoir prompt assignment is to think of a sound or a smell the reminds you of something from your past and write a post about that memory. Don’t forget to incorporate the sound/smell of your choosing!