What is it about the power of smell that, with one whiff of a familiar scent, one can be transported back to another place and time?
This morning, as I removed my toast from the toaster, the smell of the warm bread immediately started a chain reaction of thoughts in my head that led me to the kitchen on old Universitas Straat on a winter afternoon when I sat with my two AFS sisters having tea. I so vividly remember the smell of the rusks we had recently made and were enjoying and the warmth of the tea as we wrapped our hands around the cups.
I remember Wilmaretha, standing in the sliver of sunlight by the kitchen door and Estelle or I commented that she was just like a cat, soaking in every last bit of the sunlight’s warmth before it set for the day.
Those are the details I remember. What we were talking about or exactly when this was escapes me but the overall feeling of pleasantness and contentment was and IS unmistakable.
I think of my sisters and our year together so often. This morning, however, when I was magically lifted away from my chilly kitchen and gently plopped into the warm memory of tea and rusks with my lovely sisters, was a truly special moment for me. Especially as I get older, I am intrigued by what moments in my past have become cherished memories.
The delicious smell of my morning toast surprised me with a sweet reverie. I am so thankful they were a part of my life, even half a world away.