Nana's Perfume

I looked up from my schoolwork, furrowing my brow. There it was again: Nana’s perfume. Where could it be coming from? I haven’t seen my grandmother in months. Not since the coronavirus messed up the world and isolated me from the extended family I seldom saw throughout the year. Nana has worn the same perfume ever since I could remember. I had found a Victoria’s Secret perfume a few years ago that made me smell exactly like her after I had been wearing it for a bit. Now, it just reminded me of bad memories, so I usually forgo putting it on. Which was why I was confused how I was smelling it now. 

I can’t remember when the exact first time was that I’d smelled her perfume. But now, it reminds me of warm, summer days in the country, feeling as though I could fly across the water of the big lake we always went to. I have distinctive memories of deep cleaning the house before she’d visit, years ago, because we always had cats growing up. She was very allergic to them though, so we had to pull out the beds and vacuum every tuft of hair.  

There was another time I remember she had to get on a plane to go back home that left early. I hadn’t had time to say goodbye, and when I woke up she had already gone. I started crying, sat in the bed she’d slept on, and wrapped myself in blankets that smelled so strongly of her that my heart ached. I did that for days until I couldn’t catch her distinctive perfume anymore, no matter how hard I tried. 

When I was little, I would look forward to her visits somewhat selfishly, because I knew my Nana always brought gifts with her. Small gifts, nothing more than a statue of a cat that she got in Cancún or a little bobble-head butterfly, whose wings stay on but only if you know how to put them on just right. Sometimes she'd bring school pictures of my cousins, and sometimes she brought a promise of going shopping. A novelty as a little kid, and even more so as a teen. 

I have no memory of going to Cancún with the rest of my family. Sure I have pictures, but that wouldn’t quite be the same as going there and lounging in the deep blue of the ocean where I screamed and cried as a baby when my uncles sat me down in the freezing water. Even then, I knew, Nana’s perfume would have wrapped around everything and everyone like the warmest, coziest hug she could give. Not that it replaced her actual hugs, which were one of the best things in the world. 

I remember when she would visit, she would sleep in my room, which meant that my younger sister and I were kept up by Nana’s snoring. This wasn’t a bad thing though, because her snoring was one of the funniest things to me and Penny. We often woke her up with our stifled giggles, which made her start laughing too, and then we were all wide awake. She’d invite us over to Penny’s bed, and we’d all laugh more while snuggling under the covers, wrapped in Nana’s warmth and the perfume-y smell that lingered around her, even if she’d just showered. Once we all got out of bed, Nana would set her hair in curlers, and emerge from the room surrounded by a cloud of her perfume. 

I can’t imagine a time where Nana didn’t wear her staple perfume. I remember it from when she lived in the big, red-bricked house with the circular room. That room was always mine, because the turret on top made me feel like a princess. Despite its size, you could smell her perfume in every room you walked into. 

When that house became too big for her, she moved closer to my aunt and uncle, into a much smaller house. It’s beautiful, cozy, and the outside is painted blue, her favorite color. As always, with each house she inhabited, her perfume permeated the walls, soaked into the sofa, and any family who visited immediately relaxed. There was something about her calm, thoughtful demeanor, coupled with the perfume, that put anyone and everyone at ease around her presence. 

Which was why, as I sat in the living room four states away from her, I was both comforted and sad. I wished she really was here, not just the lingering smell of her perfume. But, that smell reminded me of better times: of the time where her Westie, named Bianco, because he was white and she’s Italian, would snort through his food and then chase his adopted brother, Nerino, to try and eat his food. Their little feet would scramble on the floor, nails clicking and tails wagging, as they struggled to get traction on the hardwood, making them look like cartoons. 

I think of the time when we sat on the couch in the giant Airbnb we had rented for the whole family and just talked while she knit. Everyone else was outside around the fire they’d built, but I am very allergic to mosquito bites, so I decided not to go outside with the rest of my family. I think of the time where I discovered her headband and was delighted to find that it still smelled like her, even years later. I nearly sat down right where I was and cried, I missed her so much. 

A lot of the smells that someone repeatedly experiences throughout their life are embedded into their memories. These memories are often extremely detailed. For some people, those memories and feelings when they smell something are so ingrained in their mind that they can’t help but feel intense emotions. As for me, the only smell that I can trace as a constant throughout my entire life is the smell of my Nana’s perfume. I always get a wave of nostalgia accompanied by a wave of contentment. Even just smelling her perfume from a distance, I know that everything will turn out okay.