The Scent of a Memory
The smell of Dial soap reminds me of my grandpa.
The cleaning company that’s responsible for cleaning the bathrooms at work haven’t been doing a very good job. We’ve been out of soap in our soap dispenser for a few days now. Yesterday, the office that shares the floor with us brought in a dispenser of Dial soap. Today, when I was using it, I was transported back to standing in my grandpa’s bathroom. For a brief moment, I could smell a hint of his aftershave, the remnants of the cigarettes he used to smoke, and coffee all rolled into one. I could even see his denture cleaner and imagined his smile. And I smiled. Then, just as quickly as I was transported to his bathroom, I was back in the office bathroom. I dried my hands and went back to work.
It was a bittersweet moment that made me realize, despite his religious beliefs and differences with my immediate family, I miss him.
Isn’t it strange how something so simple as the smell of a certain brand of soap can trigger such strong memories?
