the migrant wife

Scents collected throughout my days at home (or about)…

• Bread dough rising on the counters, the fragrant whiff of yeast fermentation, harbinger of cinnamon buns.
• Freshly laundered sheets straight out of the dryer, smelling of crisp cleanliness . 
• Cherry-flavoured baby toothpaste for the emerging denticles, promising a whole two minutes of squirms and giggles before the fingerprint-marked bathroom mirror. 
• Strong-brewed Yorkshire, or Earl Grey, with a dash of milk, to accompany my naptime silence.
• The richness of meat and caramelised onion in my bolognese, which had been in the slow cooker for six hours, friend to a mama who finds boiling pasta the only acceptable level of dinner prep to be done at 5.30pm.
• The oily sharp petrol at the Sainsbury’s, where I make faces through the passenger window at my baby who has no idea why I’m standing outside.
• The carpark behind the charity shop which always has waves of fresh garlic bread wafting through.
• The nappy bin.
• Lemon loaf cakes straight out of the oven, fruits of an afternoon of labour (read, baking marathon), after one of our weekly afternoon studies. 
• Paperbacks which smell of dried butter and wisdom, when I have the time and/or discipline to read.
• Milky baby breath on my face when the baby is using me as a climbing frame to get to whatever forbidden household item that is slightly out of reach. 
• My dear friend’s zopf – milky pull-apart bread which, when taken with hot chocolate and cream, reminds me of being indoors on a rainy afternoon with a dressing gown around my knees. 
• Sour Cream and Onion lentil chips, because I am tricking myself that if it isn’t potato crisps then it’s healthy
• Plastic vacuum bags – why do they even smell? – for clothes storage. The manual vacuum pump also proves to be an excellent toy and provides endless entertainment for when I’m busy decluttering
• Roses I got from my lovely husband on Valentine’s Day.
• The earthy scent of dirt after a downpour, which, I read, means the bacteria in the soil was working very hard 
• Disinfectant at the GP surgery. Coincidentally I have had the best chats with strangers (other patients) in the waiting room. Unsure if there’s any link with the concentration of bleach used on the floors. 
• Redbush tea when I’m feeling guilty about my caffeine intake from tea 
• The (probably imagined) smell of baby clothes, because I can’t believe somebody actually fit into this? 
• Guilt which smells like roasted coffee beans, when I spend £4 on a hot chocolate at a cafe instead of making it on the hob at home. 
• The accompanying sense of elevated enjoyment, which smells like artificial vanilla / pistachio / pumpkin sweeteners, when I sat at said cafe and journaled my little heart out. 
• Nivea moisturiser which I religiously lather on myself every morning and night without fail, which also sometimes ends up on more than 70% of my baby’s body because I turned my head for half a second and the blue tin was too irresistible. 

What does your life smell like at the moment?