My mom brought me a candle from her recent trip to Vegas. It smells strong, and wonderful, and I put it in the living room. The Husband, as soon as he walked through the door, said - "That is not a Family Smell." I knew exactly what he was talking about.
Our house smells like, our house. It smells like Shutup Roxy and baking things and Murphy's Wood Soap. It is a smell that I don't even register, but would recognize anywhere. It is different than my mother's house, different than my friends' houses, different than any house I know. All pleasant, all distinct, none of them mine.
It's only when we've been gone for awhile that it becomes discernable. After our annual beach trip, it almost strange walking in the back door. It's the only time I can clearly smell us. If I concentrate, I can pick each one out - The Husband's aftershave. Katie, her Love's Baby Soft unable to cover her natural maple syrup-smell. Julia, like skin that's been warmed by the sun during a summer nap. Henry, with his new puppy smell, all fat and soft. And me, smelling like all of them from countless hugs and kisses that mark me as Mom.
It all smells warm and sweet and delicious. It all smells like home.
2 weeks ago