I Can Almost Smell it

Early this moring I got a Sn@pch@t from my 13 year old granddaughter. A short video panarama of the students and the classroom in one of her 8th grade subjects. In that moment I regressed sixty years to the little rural six room school I attended. The chalk odor greeted my nose at the front entrance. The hallway seemed dark and wide from my childish perspective. The steam radiators clanked and hissed throughout the winter days. Sometimes wet gloves were set on them to dry, which reminded me of wet dog as the wool singed from the heat. What we called 'the cloackroom' was a large open ended closet that contained hooks for coats and a built in bench. As there was no cafeteria, the large closet also held our lunch boxes. So by the late afternoon the over-ripe banana peels and the left over peanut butter sandwiches were in a winning battle to offend the nostrils. I don't even need to mention the stinky boots and wet socks. But hey! The windows were push up to open. And, when spring arrived we were ready for some fresh air. The teacher needed someone with brute strength for the first attempt. The previous summer's paint job combined with the wood swell from the constant chill and rain made the windows a pièce de résistance. (Heck, I know that isn't the proper use of that french phrase, but perhaps for a window it was memorable accomplishment.) According to my GQQGling skills, "scientists think memory and odor are closely linked" because of the limbic system. (Yeah, I'll let you look that one up yourself.) Anyway, as we age we think about the smells and associated memories less often. So, that when it DOES happen it is very vivid. And this morning, it was. I told my granddaughter, "I can alsmost smell it."