Scent

 When Megan and I were about 3 years old, our parents got divorced. That became a confusing time for us - staying at houses with people we didn’t recognize, sleeping in beds that weren’t ours. Not knowing what was going on, or why our father wasn’t around. Our mother moved the three of us into a small subsidized apartment in Durham, where we finally had our familiar little beds and our toys, and I thought maybe this was our home now. But, the apartment was robbed not too long after we’d moved in, and I was holding a policeman’s hand, staring at even more unfamiliar faces. My grandfather brought us to live with him in Raleigh, in the small house where our mother grew up. God knows how crowded in was, with two adults and twins, in a 1000 square feet, but he never treated us like we didn’t belong there, or that he wasn’t growing even more gray hair from us roaring around and being noisy. 

He never talked much, but he still had a great sense of humor. On day, he was in our tiny bathroom, shaving his face. Of course, I came over and started pestering him, asking him all sorts of questions. He never answered me, but he turned around with a handful of Aqua Velva and playfully smacked both sides of my face with it. Then we both burst out laughing, and I reeled away with my hands on my cheeks, reeking of aftershave.

We continued to live in that house, long after he’d passed away. He was the most stable, reliable, steadying force in our lives. Something that was desperately needed. He gave us a home. Even now, when I dream of home, my mind chooses that little house. And every time I smell Aqua Velva, I remember my grandfather, and how grateful I was to him for loving us in his own quiet way.