And suddenly it smelled like it did when I was a child, yes, I remember it well. Some of our senses seem to have memory, something I noticed years ago. My first apartment on my own, walking in and looking around liking what I saw, windows all round the place, lots of light, a garden apartment with grass outside, nice big kitchen, window over the sink, a little niche in the hallway where a phone once resided, a building built awhile ago with all the character of it's time, arches, tile, comfort. And then opened a cupboard door, the delicate smell there took me back to grandma's house, her kitchen pantry next to the back door. And all the senses then kicked in, the sound of the seat pushing back, the shopping bags stuffed in the corner, the sound of the screen door slapping against the door frame and the squeak when it opened, the three cement steps out the back door, the smell of breakfast, the shape of my grandmother working at the stove. The sound of foot...
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