The special scent

The floor was covered in dust. Old armchairs and tables were taken over by the small spiders who wove their webs everywhere. Peeling from the walls, the discreet brown paint revealed a dirty white beneath. The whole cottage was a mess. Nothing like it used to be.

When grandma was here this place radiated with a warmness you couldn’t find anywhere else. Pleasant amount of sunlight peaked behind the long rose curtains, a sweet aroma came from the kitchen where she baked the most delicious cookies. Kindness, love and joy she spread out to every person who would enter her nest. You could find peace here.

Now when I walked in this room, nothing. Only sorrow.

For her? Or for the mess this place has become?

There is still some love here, I could feel it. Her spell hadn’t been broken I knew.

I opened the door and flinched as dead insects intercepted my way. Others slipped beneath the sheets on the bed, the sheets full with dust, colored in grey.

“Oh God,” Steven walked into the room carrying the empty box. “What the hell happened here?”

“No one’s been here for years, that’s what happened,” I said.

We both walked inside the room, careful not to step on the dead cockroaches. Dust flied in the air around us. With each step it rised up from the floor and into the air. I covered my mouth and nose with my sweater and I noticed Steven did the same.

“It’s such a waste, it’s so disgusting”

“Don’t say that.” I threw him a disappointed look.

“What? It is disgusting.”

“Can’t we fix it though?” I looked at him hopefully.

“You’re not serious Laura,” he laughed. “It would take weeks to sort everything out here. Look around!”

He turned around with his arms open. “Only cleaning this room is going to take a whole day, not to say anything about the other rooms, the furniture, the electricity…”

“But don’t you think it’s all going to be worth it in the end? We can work together and it’ll be perfect in a week or so.”

“What about my job?”

“Please? You know how much this means to me”

I acted out the puppy eyes, but I knew that he wanted it as much as I do. He always wanted to make me happy and that’s why I loved him so much.

“Oh, alright” he sighed. “Let’s do it”

Happiness bursted out without me controlling it. I kissed and huged him gently as my smile got wider and wider.

“Thank you”

...................................................................................

We spent the next week in the cottage. Furniture was moved around, replaced, fixed. Surfaces were cleaned, the floor swept and the walls were repainted in a soft brown. Now the cottage was like it used to be.

Almost.

Steven thouthr it’s perfect, he liked it a lot now, but something was missing.

“Don’t you feel like something’s missing?” I asked him for the third time.

“I don’t. I don’t understand what you mean. I admit I was skeptical, but look at this place now! It’s perfect.”

Well maybe he liked it a little more than I thought.

“Why don’t we move in here?”

“What?” I wasn't sure if I heard him correctly.

“Well this place is yours, isn’t it? I know how much you love it, so why don’t we make it our home?”

I couldn't help but smile. I moved closer to him and his arms wraped around me. Butterflies again? I thought I was done with that.

“I would love to, Steven, but do you see this house as your home too?”

“I know you hate clichés, but I’m going to say it,” I rolled my eyes. “My home is wherever you are.”

We both laughed. I did hate clichés.

“Seriously, Laura, I love this place. Imagine us sitting in the garden outside where Jack and Anabel play on the swing I built.”

“Jack and Anabel?”

“Our kids of course,” he said.

“You named them already?” I looked at him with raised eyebrows.

“Yeah? They need names don’t they?”

I shook my head and smirked. Why was I surprised? Of course Steven would say something like this.

“And we have breakfasts in the kitchen,” he continued his visions as we moved to the kitchen. “You make delicious cookies for us before the kids go to school.”

 Cookies. I heard the word echo several times in my mind. Cookies…

“Steven that’s it!” I jumped away from him. “The cookies!”

 I saw his head tilted to one side and his eyebrows raised.

“The smell of the cookies is what’s missing!” I explained louder than intended.

“Oh. Well that’s not a problem then, you can just bake some.”

“I don’t know if I can bake grandma’s though. I don’t have the recipe.”

“Maybe your mom does” he said.

……………............................................................

“Mom doesn’t have it,” I told Steven the next morning as we sat on the couch in the living room. “Just talked to her.”

“Can’t you make other cookies if you want it that much?”

“Well I was hoping I could bake the ones she did, but yeah.”

“Maybe the recipe will come to you,” Steven said.

Maybe it will.

“I’ll try to bake them anyway” I got up and went to the kitchen. “Maybe it will come to me.”

“Need my help?” he asked without removing his eyes from the book he’s been reading.

“Nope, I’m fine.”

……….................................................................

“Eggs, butter, flour…” I muttered to myself while working. “We mix it with the chocolate chips and put it in the oven, done that. Now we wait."

I waited to see if it’s the same aroma.

Ten minutes since the cookies were in. The scent started spreading in the rooms.

I sniffed around, was this it?

It wasn't, there should have been something else mixed with the scent of the chocolate.

“Well nobody gets it right the first time,” I comforted myself as I went for an another try.

The second time, I put a little bit of cinnamon in the dough. A picture of my grandma baking formed in my mind. Was it a memory? Or just my imagination? I tried to remember as hard as I can. Remember the piece of paper on which it was written, the ingredients that stood ready on the counter.

I waited as the scent started spreading once again.

"Hey, there definitely should be cinnamon, but it’s not quite right. Not yet."

Another try. Lucky I bought a lot of everything. Third time’s a charm they say. 

I tried remembering again. I processed the picture of Grandma kneading the dough. The ingredients were standing right in front of her. What did it say on the boxes? What were those bowls full with?

Was that a bowl full of nuts?

“Eureka” I yelled out.

I put in everything as before plus a bowl of nuts, mix it, rolled the dough into small cookies and put them in the oven.

Ten minutes afterwards, I started sniffing around the oven. Something’s missing again, come on.

“If this fourth time isn’t it, I’m giving up.” I said to myself.

What else should I have tried? Was I supposed to put in the nuts again?

Without thinking much, I made the same dough. I looked around the ingredients I had in the kitchen. What could it be?

I noticed the jar of honey Steven’s father gave to us last month. Picked it up and put some in the cookies. At this point, I was just trying out everything.

Mixed it up, rolled it, in the oven. I set the alarm for ten minutes and went to lie down a bit while I was waiting.

The images of grandma in the kitchen returned.

It was a memory I was sure…

I was standing next to her, watching her…

She put in the cinnamon. And the honey. Then the chocolate chips and the nuts…

We made cookies one by one together and we laughed as we did…

In the oven and then we waited…

The sunlight was peaking behind the long rose curtains, the sweet aroma started spreading around the room…

My alarm started ringing and I woke up from the memory. Back to the present.

It felt like everything was the same and I fought the feeling that I was still not awake. But Steven was here too, he just walked into the kitchen.

“Did you get it right?” he asked me.

I looked up at him blankly.

“Smells delicious whether it’s right or not. And we’ll have cookies to feed a whole army.”

Was that the scent of the cookies I just made? Not grandma’s?

I got up quickly and went to the oven. The cookies already had a brown-ish color. They looked good. But the scent…

It seemed right…

I sniffed the cookies, let it take over every other scent. It was just like I remembered it.

“I got it!” I jumped and landed in Steven’s embrace. He was laughing softly like he was laughing on our first date.

“I knew you would,” he said as he pated my back.

Warmness, love, joy were all present. The cottage looked like it used to. But now it also smelled like it used to. Smelled just like grandma’s cookies.