Scentsability

Saturday was a baby shower that I helped set up for a friend from my church. I was in charge of games (I'm dorky, but I love games!) and keeping it a surprise while delivering my friend to the home of the party hostess. It was a successful surprise.

One of the games, actually honestly the stupidest game ever, was "pin the binkie on the baby". You get blindfolded and turned around in circles and then you have to, well, you know - pin the binkie on the baby.

I am not short, but neither am I tall. It seemed that every woman there was taller than me though because they all had to bend their knees and I had to stretch up on tip toe to blindfold them.

When it was Mrs. P's turn, I stood behind her and reached up with the blindfold and I was completely blindsided. Her perfume. It was Jovan Musk. It was the same perfume my mother wore her whole life. The perfume I associate with love, safety, laughter, nurturing...and a sense of great loss since her death 14 years ago.

I stopped in my tracks and said, "Oh! Mrs. P! Is that Jovan Musk?" and she said yes. I laid my head right down on her shoulder and just inhaled slowly with my eyes closed. All I could do was soak in the scent of her and the memories of my own mother. My mom, gone too soon, Mrs. P, close enough in age to be my mom... and I held back the tears as best I could while I laid my head there on Mrs. P's shoulder and pretended it was my mom.

I don't know Mrs. P all that well. We've seen each other at church, talked to each other, and both find each other friendly enough. But I didn't know her well enough to touch her, hug her, or get into her personal space... yet I was helpless once I got a whiff of her perfume.

She laughed a little awkwardly when I explained and then we continued with the game. Later on when it was time for goodbye's and good luck's, I went to her and held her close to me. I remember one of the last times I held my own mom. Her tiny thin frame, bony shoulders, small face perched on MY shoulder as I rubbed her sharp shoulder blades. Mrs. P is softer, rounder... different. But when I close my eyes I can forget that fact and just enjoy the hug.

I think I'll be getting into Mrs. P's space a little more often. Not very sensable, but entirely scentsable!