Do you smell that?

Did you ever see the movie Someone Like You starring Ashley Judd, Hugh Jackman and Greg Kinnear? I have seen it at least one trillion times. Jilted Jane is unexpectedly dumped by her love; a predictable premise all too familiar in those types of chick flicks. In one scene, she asks her doctor if he will surgically remove the part of her brain that processes her sense of smell. You know "the part that smells his cologne in the middle of the city street or smell his freshly laundered shirt even though he is no where to be found".
Have you been there before? I know I have. We have all experienced a smell that reminds us of a person or a time associated with a painful memory. But then there is the other side, when our olfactory senses surprise us when we least expect it. When a simple smell transports us to a place that we want to remember, a place where positive memories were made. Today that happened.
I stopped into a local Mediterranean restaurant to pick up my favorite hummus plate. As soon as I walked in, the smell hit me. I was so distracted I couldn't think straight when the sweet girl was taking my  order. The smell immediately transported me to the restaurant my grandfather owned when I was young. It was in the tiny town of Conehatta, Mississippi (that is pronounced Cone-uh-hat-ta).

I was in elementary/middle school and spent several weekends there. It was only open on Friday and Saturday night, which is a business model crazy enough to be successful in a small southern town. From what I understand, it had the best hush-puppies and catfish around. The odd thing was, my grandfather was a vegetarian and didn't eat much of anything that was served. My sister was old enough to waitress alongside my grandmother and great-aunt Frances. Unlike my sister, I was not old enough to work, so I just spent my time doing homework and eating chicken tenders. I remember the gentleman who folded up a one-dollar-bill into the shape of a ring as the tip for my grandmother. When she passed away, that dollar-bill ring was still in her jewelry box. Many hours were spent rocking in the two over-sized rocking chairs by the cash register. The blonde-colored wood paneling from floor to ceiling screamed of country life. The cook in the kitchen was "as-round-as-she-is-tall" and I remember her always being so nice and welcoming even if I was in her kitchen space. My great-aunt Glynn, a retired school teacher whom everyone knew and loved, acted as a hostess speaking to everyone who walked through those doors.  She would take the time to sit with me at the red and white checkered tables and have mature conversations with me, which many adults rarely do with kids that age. My grandfather, who only ran the business for a few years alongside his brother, was great at working hard. He was in his element at that "fish house." I remember how I felt there with my family- I remember feeling like I was part of the family business. But most vividly, I remember the smell of that place.
There isn't a day that goes without missing my grandfather. His nickname was "Scoot" and he was the funniest man in my world. He assumed the role as my "father-figure" after my dad died. I would give anything to spend a little bit more time with him. Today that smell, even though it was only his memory, gave me just that.

written yesterday, April 4, 2013