Showing posts with label nostalgia. Show all posts
Showing posts with label nostalgia. Show all posts

Tuesday, January 10, 2012

Super Powers

Random quotes I made up while cleaning my kitchen:

Sometimes my need for chocolate overrules my want to be skinny. -me


A napping baby is God's gift to moms. -me


Ah, that blissful moment when the baby falls asleep for his nap. -me


Have you ever stopped to consider different powers of things in your life? Things like, the power of smell, the power of a sincere compliment on something very important and personal to you, the power of a smile, the power of someone who will listen, or even the power of a hurtful comment, intentional or not.

Today I have been considering powers.

The power of a sincere compliment is astonishing.
The power of a smile is magical.
The power of someone who will listen is incalculable.
The power of a hurtful comment, intentional or not, is devastating.

But the power of smell is something that forever surprises me.

Now, I'm not talking dirty diaper, stinky chicken, rotting black beans, smell. I'm talking about a smell that triggers intense nostalgia. I only know of one smell that has that particularly powerful effect on me.

It's a Bath & Body Works lotion: Irresistible Apple. 

During my first year of teaching Kindergarten in my very own classroom, a bottle of this lotion somehow made it's way into my life, into my purse, and onto my desk. Since Utah is what I would consider a desert climate, this lotion proceeded to make it's way onto the backs of my hands every single morning of my job. At that time I thought nothing of it. It was just another lotion I loved the scent of and managed to get in the habit of using daily.

Now, since I have moved across the country, had a baby, and am not teaching school anymore, whenever I use Irresistible Apple, my mind and body are violently whirled back to that classroom with the wall of windows, squeaky metal desk, hum of a mini fridge, uncomfortable chair, Mac keyboard under my fingers, and the promise of children soon flooding in with "Hi, Mrs. Dotts!" (they never could say my name right) For an intense, brief moment in time, I return to the room where I was baptized by fire as a teacher and learned many life lessons I will never forget.

It's intoxicatingly nostalgic.
Thus, I presently rarely wear Irresistible Apple.