Olfactory Memory

When I was two years old, I lived in an apartment in Prince George with my parents. I have some strangely vivid memories of that time, even though I was very young. In one of these memories, I was playing at Janet and Doug’s apartment (my parent’s friends who lived down the hall) with a boy named Duane. The two of us were running around the coffee table in their living room when Duane fell and broke his forehead open on the table. Some time after this I was driving my Tonka Mighty Dump truck up and down the hallway. Some people came into the hall and one of them was carrying Duane. I remember that he had a bandage on his forehead and they were saying that he was going to be fine. I don’t recall if he got stitches or not -- I’m sure I wouldn’t have known what stitches were anyway. What I do remember very clearly was an odour. There was a smell in the hallway that was very strong to me and very distinct. I couldn’t tell you what it was, or even describe what it smelled like as I know of no similar aroma.

I was out for my walk the other night and I ran into exactly the same odour as I detected in that apartment hallway in Prince George almost thirty-eight years earlier. What it did was trigger all the memories I had of that time. I stood there on the quiet street, walking in circles, trying to get a better whiff and pondering the fantastic systems we incorporate in our bodies. It occurred to me that the aroma could be a combination of different odours, which is why I have only run into it once or twice in my life. Maybe it is a combination of some spices cooking in someone’s meal, mixed with the scent of a candle, or the smell of a flower -- it’s impossible to say. The only way I’d be able to tell what the odour was, is if it were in the air and someone recognized the aroma and could identify it. Short of that, I’d say it will remain a mystery to me for the rest of my life.