olfactory memories.

I've always strongly tied smells to memory. In anatomy junior year I learned why. All sensory information travels from the sense organ-eyes, hands, tongue, whatever- to our brain to be processed and stored. The trick of it is that all the the senses except smell take a quick stop at the thalamus (relay center) before traveling to their final destination. Smell on the other hand takes a shortcut and heads right to the olfactory nerve, making our smelly memories stronger and easier to recall. This could be boring to know, but I always like when science supports my life. I remember this olfactory fact every time I inhale and instantly transport to a different time or place.

10 scents and memories.

1. Cigarettes and cards. Though my Grandma hasn't smoked for years, perhaps a decade even, she will forever smell like Malboro's and a deck of cards to me. When I shuffle a deck and breathe, I am instantly at 770. Sitting on Grandma's bed, the thick glass ashtray on her bedside table. Watching her play Solitaire and watching The Price is Right.

2. Dr. Pepper Lipsmacker, artificial strawberry and mint. All of these were the ill-fated attempts of the doctors to make the pre-surgery knock-out mask smell like anything but medicine (guess what, medicine would have been better). Now, of course any whiff of them and I'm laying on a hospital bed knowing that in four hours I'm gonna wake up, sore, with swollen puffy eyes, and, more often than not, throwing up.

3. Chanel No. 5. Mom. Always. It's a smell I knew so well for so long. I couldn't even name it until college probably, but nameless or not, it's my mom.

4. Pot. Sixth grade. The first time I smelled it and really knew what it was. I sat the computer in my parent's room, instant messaging. The smell wafting down the hallway. Realizing it must be bad if he's not even hiding it anymore. Waiting for Mom to come home and hoping she'd know what to do.

5. Crab. Christmas Eve and all the family is together. It's loud and bright. We're wearing crowns on our heads and eating the cheesiest delicious-est pasta ever created.

6. Lavender lotion. MMS East, it's naptime, the classroom dark-ish because it's February and rainy. Josie and Kass are whispering while rubbing backs. I'm still unsure of what to do so I preoccupy myself, helping myself to the lavender lotion in the cupboard.
I was shocked how quickly this association to time and place happened. But a few weeks ago, I stopped by the cupboard while walking through the classroom to Kindergarten. I put the lotion on and instant flashback. Not just to time and place, but feeling. Instant uncertainty of how I was gonna break into this tight knit community of work and friends and family.

7. Pantene Pro-V. Freshman year, dorms. I swear, I can remember the first shower there. I had no roommate yet. I had put away all my things, what I wanted, where I wanted. I had spent the day playing apples to apples with friends and strangers. I showered and sat on my bed. And I just felt free.

8. Hawaiian Breeze air freshener. Apartment Twelve. Living with Stephanie, who had this air freshener constantly plugged in her wall (and car). We stayed up late watching Golden Girls, scrapbooking and trying to ignore our roommate having sex so very loudly. Then we're in the kitchen and she asks me why my Campbell's soup mug looks too small to actually contain a can of soup. I tell her, without hesitation, matter of factly, it's because the mug was made in 1952 and portion sizes were smaller back then. Minutes later, we end up on the floor, laughing to tears because she took my ridiculous answer for truth.

9. Lucky You. Carondelet, sophomore year. When I smell this for some reason I'm always walking down the same hallway. Uniformed and walking to class.

10. Indescribable smell, really, but cooked eggs and medicine, antiseptic perhaps. It sounds unpleasant, but it's Stephanie Klingler's house. Every once and a while, smells in the air mix and I catch just a breath bringing me there. I'm ten and walking through their door after school. I hear Keith, angsty and teenage, yelling at their Mom and think (hope) that maybe that's just how all brothers are and mine isn't so bad. I see all of Emily's medicine's on the dresser and am afraid, thinking it isn't fair for someone so young to be so sick. Stephanie and I jump on the trampoline out back and plan our Grease talent show performance that never came to be.