A Yankee candle sits on the dresser in my old room at my parents’ house. The scent is called “Berrylicious.” I walked past it the other day and was transported to my junior year of high school, when I went on a trip with my friend Carrie to New York City for the first time. It was there, at a random shop, that I purchased a random tube of lip gloss. The scent of my lips during that trip smelled like this candle.
I find it funny how a sense can take us back in time. I actually leaned over the dresser for a minute before recalling the origin of the scent and asked myself, “How in the world do I know this smell?” I stared at the candle and then looked at myself in the mirror, determined, for a while. Until it came to me.
Instantly, I was walking those streets again for the first time — Huddled under an umbrella with my friend in the rain and falling in love with a place I knew one day I would belong to. Sundaes from Serendipity. Bagels in the hotel bed. Buildings I needed to see — Breathing NYC.
Now, I miss the city a lot and need to go back soon. But, for now, I have a lit candle to hold me over. The scent, just now, has filled the room.