El que tiene hijas, cena en Navidad.

My first thought that morning wasnt the usual "What time is it?" Perhaps subconsciously I remembered I had the day off. Maybe when I went to bed the night before, knowing tomorrow was Thanksgiving Day, caused me to dream about turkey and fixin's and family and the day off from work. But still, my first thought Thanksgiving morning wasnt about turkey or stuffing or famliy or all the stuff we had to do to mark the celebration. First thing I remember thinking that morning was "What the hell is that smell?"

The moment I'd open my eyes I'd gotten a brief whiff of something. Something sweet. Something I'd smelled before. Something I knew, but couldnt quite make out. The aroma had been quite fleeting.

First thing I did that morning, after running the hot water in the shower, was walk over to the laundry room and make sure the pilot was still lit on the water heater. It was. I sniffed around the gas lines, picked up a bottle of Windex and sprayed the fittings and connections and made sure no bubbles appeared. There was no gas leak and what I had smelled as I awoke was definitely not gas.

I jumped in the shower and tried to put together some kind of a schedule in my mind of all the things I had to do that day. We were having Thanksgiving at my mom's this year and my wife and I were in charge of the meal and preparations. Pots and pans had to be loaded, tons of groceries, the turkey, cooking utensils, plates and napkins, vegetables and pies, the little Pligrim salt and pepper shakers. Quite a bit of work lay ahead of us that day.

Then, as I pulled the shower curtain open came another faint and fleeting hint of the very same aroma. "Man," I said to myself, "What is that?"I knew it wasnt the scent of any shampoo or conditioner or soap in the bathroom, but I checked the bottles just the same. Opened the bottle caps, put my nose to them and inhaled deeply. Cupped the bars soaps in my hand and did the same. Nada. The smell, even though I recogized it somehow, wasnt the same as anything found in our bathroom.

It's a funny thing, the olfactory sense. Sometimes you get a slight sniff of some aroma or another and immediately not only do you know what it is, but it congers up memories of precisely when and where you took in that particular smell in the first place. And sometimes, you get the same slight sniff and you know you know it, but you just cant place it.

I threw on a pair of shorts and a tshirt, grabbed a pair of socks from the sock drawer and sat in front of the computer. I'd wanted to post a nice, heartwarming Thanksgiving post that day, but the words just didnt come. Nor did I have the time to wait for them. Too many things to do.

So I wrote up a quick Happy Thanksgiving entry, wishing everyone enjoy their their holiday with family and friends and published it.

And then, as I spun my chair around to the side and bent over to pull on my socks, the smell, that sweet aroma that had visited me twice that morning came back. This time it lingered for a bit. I took deep breaths as I finished putting on my socks. I got up and walked around the room sniffing here and there. I nosed around the closet, drew in around my clothes. The aroma was still there, but I just couldnt discern where it was coming from.

"Enough with this smell crap," I said to myself. "I've got way too many things to do today to be chasing some aroma around the house." So I grabbed a pair of shoes from the closet and stuck my feet in them, tied the laces and off I went.

I went back out to the kitchen and the smell tagged along. I couldnt get rid of the damned thing. The unknown smell, apparently, was with me to stay.

After a few hours of running around, getting things ready, loading up the car and helping the Mrs - all the while the smell competing with the aromas emanating from the kitchen, I stop for a moment and thank my wife for all she's done to have Thanksgiving at my mom's house this year.

"I know it's a lot of hard work," I say. "But man, I love Thanksgiving."

"Me, too," she responds.

"It's not just the food that I love," I say. "It's the whole getting together with family thing. You know, Thanksgiving and Noche Buena were my grandfather's..."

And then it hit me like an olfactory slap to the noggin'. English Leather.

English Leather was the scent that had been hammering me all morning. The all too familiar aroma that had been following me around the house and yard all day and driving me crazy. Making me sniff almost everything in every room looking for it.

I hadnt smelled that particular cologne in years. Almost twenty years to be exact. On my Abuelo's neck. It was his favorite and he never, ever, used it sparingly. I remember hugging him and having the English Leather stay with all day sometimes.

Knowing me, just imagine how I felt right then and there, thinking about my grandfather on Thanksgiving, his second favorite holiday of the year, smelling his cologne all day. I couldnt stop the tears from flowing.

Later that day I stood at the head of the dining room table and gave thanks for everything we have; for our family and our health and everything else we have to be thankful for. And then, just as I was about to close our Thanksgiving prayer my mother, through teary eyes, chimed in:

"And let's give thanks for having as part of our lives those who are no longer with us."

That night, after a full day of preprations and celebration, with turkey and stuffing and yams stuffed in our bellies, around midnight and on our way home, the Mrs and I took a few detours to a couple of 24 hour Walgreens.

See, the smell that had accompanied me all day was gone and I wanted it back. I wanted my English Leather. I wanted my grandfather to stay just a little longer.

We never did find the English Leather that night, but we did find Old Spice, my grandfather's second favorite cologne. So I bought it, opened it and splashed it on, right there in the parking lot at Walgreen's, close to midnight on Thanksgiving. It's appropriate, I suppose, as Thanksgiving was, indeed, my grandfather's second favorite holiday.

His favorite, of course, was Noche Buena. It's only a few days away and I've already got my English Leather.

"El que tiene hija, cena en Navidad."

Posted by Val Prieto at December 19, 2006 09:02 AM

Comments

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