My Plate Full of Smells

The first smell was sweet, in a sickening manner. The 'small girl' type of scent, that they find wonderful but we find too sweet.

The second smell held more memories than any other smell. Paris Amour. Most of everyone else didn't like it, but I loved it. It could be too sweet, but if you only let out a little, it would be fine. It made me think of my childhood, my siblings, everything from those few years of my life when I was at a public elementry.

The next smell was from my sister, kept contained by a small vial with a silver top and pink lettering. She got it when she was young, very young, for her birthday, and I always wanted to use some. I've kept that smell since she gave it to me. It smells like cupcakes.

The fourth smell is the smallest of the vials. Armani Code, they call it. More herbal and minty. It has a faint smell of something else, something from your wildest dreams that is unidentifyable. You would never think to smell it by opening a vial on a golden plate, rather at a dinner party.

And then, the smell of spring raid ascending in a sheet, fresh and clear. Holding memories of the springs I've spent in Central Illinois and the rains. Seeing rainbows with my father and sister, my mother staying inside to eat dinner.

Five smells, atop a golden plate, atop a gamboge jewlery box, atop a six-drawer dresser. All with stories. Take a whiff. Be reminded.