I reach deep into the closet and pull it out with reverence. It’s plaid, lightweight cotton but it warms my heart beyond measure.
I used to hold it up and drink in the scent. Years would fall away, and I’d hear my dad call me Babe. For the longest time it smelled like him, somehow. No cheesy cologne, no overpowering scent…it just smelled like him.
I was sad when the scent faded, but his essence is still there. I wear it in November and December mostly. Its plaid fits the holidays, but more than that, it puts me in the mind of memory…and, for me, memory is filled with family. November and December are fraught with memory, so that is the shirt’s perfect season.
As I pen words about gratitude this month, I’m struck by the power of the senses. Smell and touch take me back to the days of Dad – his unconditional love, his overwhelming support of all I did and wanted to be. His strong faith, his godly example.
Excuse me a minute. I need to go hug a shirt. And maybe use it to wipe a few tears away.
Do the senses trigger a memory for you? Or remind you of a blessing?
I used to hold it up and drink in the scent. Years would fall away, and I’d hear my dad call me Babe. For the longest time it smelled like him, somehow. No cheesy cologne, no overpowering scent…it just smelled like him.
I was sad when the scent faded, but his essence is still there. I wear it in November and December mostly. Its plaid fits the holidays, but more than that, it puts me in the mind of memory…and, for me, memory is filled with family. November and December are fraught with memory, so that is the shirt’s perfect season.
As I pen words about gratitude this month, I’m struck by the power of the senses. Smell and touch take me back to the days of Dad – his unconditional love, his overwhelming support of all I did and wanted to be. His strong faith, his godly example.
Excuse me a minute. I need to go hug a shirt. And maybe use it to wipe a few tears away.
Do the senses trigger a memory for you? Or remind you of a blessing?
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11 comments:
Such a lovely and tender remembrance. Scent is very evocative for me, too. And thanks for stopping by my blog - it's nice to meet you here!
I agree..When I travel I take a shirt that belongs to my husband. It brings warm, safe, and loving thoughts to mind.
Absolutely - scent is a powerful trigger. I remember one day walking across the parking lot toward the grocery store. I passed an elderly lady, and the scent of Chanel No. 5 wafted past. I immediately recalled my grandmother, who used to wear that perfume every day. It was like Nana herself was standing right next to me in that parking lot. My eyes immediately welled -- it was that powerful.
Scent does the same thing for me. My dad carries a pen around in his shirt pocket all the time, and one day I found one on the couch that he'd left here (I'm sure Sweet'ums was the real culprit). I keep it in my nightstand drawer because somehow the little rubber grip on it absorbed his smell. I feel silly for it but hey, it made me happy when I found it. My husband wears the same cologne as my dad and it's a two-fold comfort.
Oh, Laura, that is such a gorgeous piece of writing...I can feel all the emotions of your words...I used to do the same with my husband's shirts when he was absent from the house. Now we're together 24-7 and I still enjoy the scent of his shirts :)
Thanks for stopping by my blog and leaving such lovely comments. I'm signing up to be one of your reading fans...
Yes, I agree so much!
Laura, you wrote such a lovely tribute to your Dad. I wished I had met him.
Yes, senses take me many places. "Have you hugged your shirt, today?" luv ya!
hi! love your post.having an ite of a loved one can be so comforting. have a good evening. rose
How wonderful that you have kept that shirt. I really believe in the power of the senses, especially smell.
I have a plaid shirt from my Dad as well. He passed away when I was 16. I use to sneak in his closet and steal his shirts and wear them as jackets. I did this from age 10 to 16. Oh how I miss doing that.
He sounded gentle and tough at the same time. All a girl needs in her dad. Hugs to you and thanks for sharing your story.
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