Memory

Long before I thought of going to China, I heard a story about our family friend Herb. (Of course, Herb had many stories.) He had been a missionary in China. After returning to the States, a few years later, he was cleaning out his garage, when he stopped and said, "I smell China." It was as if the scent had traveled from China and landed in Minnesota.

That moment where a scent meets a deep memory or an emotion is wonderful. In Anatomy I learned that olfactory experiences are processed in the same place in the brain as memory, and differently from other senses. But scent sometimes transports me to a place I can't explain, something from childhood, something from which I only remember a feeling, and not a place or person.

I often wonder what will trigger that reaction of "smelling China" for me. Many things come to mind, like burning garbage and exhaust fumes. The good and more subtle come to mind too, like the Bread Diary, the deep, cool, wood and incense of a temple, or the stinging oil used during a leg massage.

Pineapples remind me of China too. The vendors would have it cut and ready in plastic bags with toothpicks to make it easy to take and eat. I cut up a pineapple tonight and immediately took out the garbage.

I was overcome with the scent of lilacs. The hedge between our apartment property and a large, barren field, the hedge I've seen many times before, is actually a long row of lilac bushes, more than 40 feet long, in white, lavender, and dark purple.



I haven't lived in a place with lilacs in 4 years.

-吴碧芙