The Aroma of Love | Previous Challenge Entry

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TITLE: The Aroma of Love | Previous Challenge Entry
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10/31/05
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The Aroma of Love

If I say the word fragrant what immediately comes to mind? Is it the thought of fresh spring flowers? Maybe the smell of lilacs as they first bloom or crabapple blossoms bursting with color catches your fancy. Or could it be the fragrance of a fine perfume or the cologne worn by that special someone.

It has been said that a smell can bring to the forefront of the mind some of the fondest memories. For some, it could be the fragrance of fresh, line dried sheets just put on the bed. Others may remember the smell of Old Spice or High Karate that would fill the room after Dad's morning shower. I can remember the smell of Ivory Snow that my Mom used to wash our clothes when we were just kids. But, some of my best childhood memories come from the fragrant smells of the kitchen.

Sunday mornings were sometimes filled with great anticipation, especially if Taylor's Pork Roll was in the offering. The sweet, smoky aroma would fill the air. Eventually, the smell would make the trip up the stairs to fill the nostrils of each inhabitant. It wouldn't be long before all the kids would rush down and take a place at the kitchen table.

"We can't start eating until your Dad comes home," my Mom would say from the stove. Each kid in unison would pick up their knife and fork. The chant and rhythmic beating of utensil to table would begin. "We want Daddy! We want Daddy," we would drone. Just when my Mom couldn't take the clatter any longer, Dad would open the door with a newspaper in one hand and freshly baked New York Kaiser hard rolls in the other. Only then would Mom deliver the goods; eggs cooked just right, a hard roll that had been ripped in two and stuff with butter and pork roll fried to perfection. Dad would give the word and the feeding frenzy would begin.

Thanksgiving was always special and even more so when the entire family would gather at my Uncle Mickey's and Aunt Loretta's house. They owned a two-flat near the New Jersey shore. The house was close to a busy street so we would have to park in the backyard. This meant entering their home through the rear door and directly into . . . the kitchen.

The fragrances would almost overwhelm the senses. Aunt Loretta would make two turkeys, stuffed with wonderful smelling dressing thereby insuring leftovers. The aroma of rutabaga, sweet potatoes and a variety of vegetables added to the smells and anticipation. My Mom would do the baking. Holiday cookies were so many that the tins seemed to groan under the strain. Apple pies and pumpkin pies were always at the ready along with something my Mom called 'crazy cake'.

At the word of dinner being served the entire family would rush to the table. My grandmother knowing my fondness for drumsticks always made sure I had one. Looking around the table I would catch my Dad and my Uncle Ed glaring at my prize. They would lick their chops as if the drumstick on my plate was the only one left. I would wrap my fist around that turkey leg and steel myself against their stares. "Jack! Eddie! That's his drumstick," their Mom would say. Grandma to the rescue.

Writing this piece makes the memories seem so fresh. I find myself wondering what God smells as these meals are served and enjoyed. Does He smell the turkey, mashed potatoes and cranberry sauce of a Thanksgiving feast? Can He smell the pork roll or my grandmother's special sausage and onions dish served for Sunday breakfast? Or do all the smells gather together and rise to heaven as a fragrant symphony? I can't help but think that our Lord smells only the love and what a sweet, sweet aroma it must be to His nose.

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