SENSING THEIR PRESENCE:
How the Five Senses Keep Memory Alive
By Elizabeth Campbell Photography by Maresa Smith
It was the familiar blend of everyday things — the soap she bathed with, the shampoo she used, the quiet trace of her antiperspirant. There was the delicate hold of her hairspray, the soft powder of her makeup, the comforting warmth of her body lotion. You might notice the faint scent of the detergent she always used on her clothes, or the hand soap she reached for throughout the day. And then, always, the fragrance she chose — sometimes one, sometimes layered — that clung softly to her skin. All of it together became hers. Even now, it is hers alone. No one else carries it, not exactly. It was more than a scent — it was her essence, mingling with the natural warmth of her skin to become something whole, something known only to those who loved her. HER SCENT WAS NEVER JUST PERFUME.
And when she was gone, it was that scent — that delicate, familiar, and unmistakable scent — that lingered. Caught in the folds of a sweater, in the quiet corners of a room, or drifting through the air unexpectedly. A reminder. A presence.
Even now, when it comes back to me, I stop. I breathe it in. And for a moment, she is there.
Grief has a way of sharpening the senses. A whiff of fresh bread in the morning can stop you in your tracks because it’s just like her recipe. The crackle of a needle on vinyl might transport you to lazy Sunday mornings with his music playing in the next room. Our five senses—sight, sound, smell, taste, and touch—are
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