Memoirs of a Memory

Do you ever have those days when your senses seem to be heightened? Perhaps all your senses, or maybe just one... Today, I seemed to have a heightened sense of smell. They say that smell is most-closely linked to memories and this couldn't have been more true today. I found myself getting a whiff of distant memories which I had not recalled in years.


I waited at the corner for a bus to take me up the mountain to one of my schools. I had never taken this bus before and when I climbed aboard I was struck be the distinct scent. Suddenly I was recalling memories of my grandfathers boat on lake Mary in Minnesota. We would beg him to take the boat out... -maybe the first run of the season. We would race down to the dock and find the boat tucked up under the white canopy and wait impatiently as he lowered her down into the water. As soon as there was space for us, we would crawl into the boat under the canopy and crouch down as swallows nesting in the canopy's corners, swooped at our heads. Maybe we would spend a few minutes brushing away the cobwebs, while grandpa fiddled with the motor. This was the exact scent that the bus had... Mildew, cobwebs, old fishing bait, and motor oil. Perhaps this sounds unappetizing but I was glad to have this recollection stirred up in my mind. I was suddenly awash with so many happy memories and sitting with my cousins, aunts, uncles, and grandparents, flying over the lake with a poor soul on an inner tube (or surfboard) in tow behind us. I relived these moments, the rest of the bus ride and got off the bus with a smile on my face, heading to my next school to spend the afternoon.


Not long after the bus to Memoryville, I had a similar experience while at the school that afternoon. Due to my religious intake of water, I find myself often in need of a restroom which is almost always an adventure here in these parts of Guatemala. This was the first time I sought to use the bathroom at this particular school... I asked the Director for the key and she obligingly pointed the way to the lavatories. I was optimistic because at least this was an actual bathroom with a door and even a key which meant that it probably even had a toilet and not just a hole in the ground. The key gave me some trouble in the lock, and when the door finally gave way I was slapped in the face with yet another childhood memory. When my brother and I were growing up, we were fortunate to have had many pets... For many years we had a sweetly gregarious rabbit named Blue Bell. She would hop around our basement chewing nearly anything she get her mouth around; making Swiss cheese out of fallen raincoats and amputees out of several of my Barbies.
Anyway, when I walked into this dark and musty bathroom, I was suddenly reminded of Blue Bell and the unhappy chore of changing her litter box. This bathroom could have been a giant litter box... It was made of cement, damp, and smelled a mix of bad and good, with the flowery, artificial odor of air fresheners. I stood in the bathroom a moment and recalled my Mom reminding us to change Blue Bell's litter box and my brother and I always putting it off... This made it most unpleasant when we finally did change it, as it was badly in need of cleaning by that point. So there I was in this bathroom in Guatemala, holding my breath as I dumped the litter pan in the garbage, kicking myself for waiting so long to clean it, and promising Blue Bell that it wouldn't happen again. While this was not the most pleasant of aromas, it did launch me back into some very fond memories. -Such as sitting on the couch with my Mom, brother, and Big Grace, watching Macgyver with Blue Bell on our laps, feeding her popcorn. The happy memories from my childhood of the Blue Bell Era which I had filed away, were brought back to mind. Perhaps this is made more significant by the fact that these fond memories were made in a house that will no longer be home to our family... The house was sold just last week and while it didn't seem to phase me at first, this recollection of childhood memories made me realize that it was a special place. I am grateful for the creative walls that surrounded me while growing up and hope that house can be a home once again to yet another family.


So this had little to do with Guatemala... or maybe it is what Guatemala is to me. Here will be my home for the next two years. And so I suppose it's good that I am vividly reminded of my fondest memories of family and friends by things here in Guatemala. I look forward to the memories I will make here, and to the future when I might recall them from the next chapter of my life.