Turning the Clock Back to the Scent of Who We Used to Be

How had I forgotten about this?

A twirling strand of guilt crept into my heart. It had only been six months. I had already failed to remember the one thing I owned of him.

An oversized grey hoodie.

It stared at me accusingly from the storage box I had placed it in the day we said our goodbyes.

Memories flitted through the screen of my mind until it zeroed in on that day.

Your eyes had twinkled as I tried on your grey hoodie. It was something I loved about him. He always gave me things without asking.

It fell to my knees, my arms disappearing under the fabric. I flapped them around, mimicking a penguin, while you laughed delightedly.

That laugh. Oh, how I loved that laugh.

“You still do,” said a tiny voice in my mind.

I sighed. Yes, I still do.

I had put away this hoodie, just like I had sealed away all memories of you for the past six months.

I looked at it hesitantly.

Do I want to open the lock to my visions of you? What if I felt the hurt and the pain all over again? Would this take me back to square one after spending the past few months surviving and trying to move on?

While my mind buzzed with questions, I had subconsciously picked it up.

My loud thoughts went quiet, and it took a moment for me to realize what was happening.

A scent. Faint but powerful.

“His scent,” the little voice in my head said.

It drew me in, tantalizing my senses, triggering something deep within.

The power of scent.

Ever since I was a kid, I loved scents. In particular, the smell of people I loved. As a child, I used to sit in my dad’s wardrobe, hiding among his shirts, letting his fragrance wrap around me when I missed him.

There was something about the fragrance of someone close to your heart.

For centuries, humans have used the power of scent to evolve, survive, and mate.

The whiff of lavender can calm you, and a trace of lemon can increase our perception of health. Some scents can improve attention and focus, while others can impact moods and behavior.

The olfactory senses can trigger emotions and vivid memories — a Proustian moment.

I emotionally attached scents to certain people and places. As I held his grey hoodie close, it stirred my bottled-up feelings.

It still lingered on the fabric.

The scent was clean, sharp, maybe even a little hopeful.

I wondered if it’s even possible for a smell to be buoyant.

For all I knew, it was the smell of freshly laundered clothes. He had worn it only once.

I had met him only once.

And yet, two years after that day, I could smell him on his hoodie like it was yesterday. His scent was warm, it was love, laughter, and playfulness mixed with something uniquely him.

I took a deep breath, waiting for the pain to hit.

But it didn’t.

Instead, the scent tingled my senses, filling my memory with his laughter, slightly crooked teeth, and jet black wavy hair.

There was a distant tug of sadness and a whole lot of love.

I had not expected this. I thought I would break down in tears over a stupid hoodie I couldn't get rid of. And yet, I sat there with my heart brimming with love for a man I met once but had changed me forever.

I was trying to prove to myself that I had moved on. I thought if I inhaled his scent and felt nothing, that was a good sign.

Nothing had prepared me for the feeling I was experiencing then.

I had attached all my feelings of that day to his scent. A day when all we did was laugh, play, and love each other.

His tender kisses and soft touch, the deep gazes, and meaningful conversations. I had embedded them all within this one aroma.

It was the smell of love.

It was the smell of home.

Tears prickled the corners of my eyes. Not because I was hurting, but because I was carried back to the emotions of that day.

“You’ll see him again,” the voice whispered. I swept the thought away. That was not a possibility. We had said our goodbyes. We had chosen to walk away from each other.

And yet, a tiny flame of hope lit in my belly.

As I put on the hoodie, his fragrance wrapping around me, I knew with a little more certainty — our story was not over yet.

As long as the love was alive, there would be no ending. And one day, the universe would let us cross paths again.

I shook off the cloth and folded it carefully, a renewed sense of peace within me.

The little flame burned brighter within me.

“I’ll see you again,” I whispered, taking in the scent one last time before I tucked it away.

Closing the box, I walked back into my life, the one without him in it, with a little more love to give.

I should have known there would be no full stop for us.