Waiting for the mail

[fbhjr]

The house where I grew up in had a mail slot in the front foyer wall that
emptied into the coat closet by the front door.
When I was young I used to like to wait in the closet for the mail.  It
would be very dark with all the long coats hanging there.  Then a bright
light as the mailman lifted up the door and a pile of envelopes would come
pouring into the closet.
For some reason that memory seems very strong to me today.  No idea why.
It’s been 40 or more years since I used to do that.
I think it is something about the smell of winter jackets & boots.  That
combination of smells was very strong in that closet.  Something I did this
morning (like dig out a different winter hat) must have triggered that.
To me it is weird how something so small can transport you back so quickly
and completely.

Comments

[malterre.livejournal.com]

I promise I won't lock you in the closet

[brickhousewench.livejournal.com]

Smells have a way of triggering memories like that.

[evrgreen.livejournal.com]

Indeed, smell is one of the most primitive and powerful stimuli we still carry with us from our lizard brain. Why else would there be such an industry for perfumes and air fresheners?

There are smells from my youth that instantly teleport me back to long-gone days. One of those smells is cinnamin rolls baking - my mom used to make those as a special treat for us kids, but only during the winter time. It was like having another Christmas for us. Surprisingly, the numerous Cinnabon places in all the airports and malls I've been past usually don't smell quite the same, but sometimes, they do.