When the mail came around yesterday and a decent sized box was brought to my desk, I felt overwhelmed. I'm taking a new accounting class for my job and when I first saw the box, I assumed it was filled with books and materials for this class I'll be taking (which I have absolutely no time for at the moment).
But when I flipped it over to examine it more closely, I noticed the familiar handwriting that spelled out my name and the return address: it was from home.
My mom told me she was sending me something for Easter a while back (yes, World, I am twenty-three and I still get an Easter basket).
I called home and whispered to my mother that I had gotten the box and dug in to open it. Inside, I found a couple sweet things that brought a smile to my face.
I thanked her and hung up, putting the box away and went on to work on some projects that I needed to have finished by the end of the day.
Six o'clock rolled around and I grabbed my box to head to my car. I sat in traffic for almost an hour and rushed in the door, ready for dinner, a shower and the comfort of my bed. As I was shoveling a bite of dinner in my mouth, I saw the box on the foot of my bed and decided to go through it again and put away the things I had gotten and throw the blouse into my laundry basket.
As I pulled the blouse out of the box, a scent caught my attention.
I can't explain the scent--I've never been able to explain it but it's always been there. It's like a strange mix of vanilla and cleanliness? It just smells...fresh. It's the scent that hits me every time I walk into my house in Florida.
It just hit me.
Instead of putting that blouse in my laundry basket, I found myself putting it on and crawling into bed to watch a movie and eventually falling asleep in that blouse.
I love Easter baskets; especially the ones that smell like home.
No comments:
Post a Comment