Growing up, I wondered why my best friend’s house smelled differently than both of mine. My dad told me that every family just has a different smell, that was all. My mom told me it was because some families buy expensive laundry detergent and dryer sheets. Over the years, I figured: each family has a unique scent—a scent born of love; a combination of two parents in a fragrant aroma, a result of the life they built together.
My best friend’s house smelled like Victoria’s Secret “Bombshell” perfume, expensive shampoo for curly hair, and patchouli. Her mom liked to shop, and her dad worked hard enough to afford it. There was something about the scent that pulled me in, the nuance and richness of it all, the remnants of a young, hip past, and an essence of responsibility and kindheartedness, dedication.
The aroma was so thick, it would stick to my skin when I spent the night, or maybe the whole weekend, and when I got my shirt wet after a water balloon fight, I would pull it out of the dryer, which was infected with the smell, and be suffocated by their aromatic love.
My house(s) never smelled anything like this. My parents separated when I was 4. I was jealous. I believe in consistency. I believe in coming home from school, from dance class, getting a glass of water after playing with the neighbor kids, and being embraced by the same smell. I couldn’t believe this seemingly unreachable wonder was a reality for my best friend.
The last drops of perfume remain in the house, down the block from my grade school, where we met. The pale pink, cylindrical bottle now sits on my best friend’s dresser. From time to time, I pick up the bottle and inhale with ease; it gives me a momentary headache. I rest, for a moment, in the cold darkness of my best friend’s room, the same room I have known since kindergarten. The carpet is now cold, tile hardwood, and the once turquoise walls are now a deep, dark, shade of gray.
The scent lingers in the air with me, living in memories. She will think I am just changing my clothes, but I am reminiscing.
This I Believe Illinois is NPR Illinois' annual essay program for Illinois high school seniors. An expression of where their minds are as they prepare to enter the adult world. This I Believe was started by radio journalist Edward R. Murrow in 1951 to allow anyone able to distil the guiding principles by which they lived. Special thank you to our sponsors: The Rotary Club of Springfield Sunrise, Illinois Principals Association, Illinois Times, Abraham Lincoln Presidential Library and Museum, University of Illinois Springfield, and Cured Catering.
