I love how the sense of smell has a way of holding memories. In a most pure and intense way. When something is so aromatic that just the mere scent of it sends you vaulting back to a time and place with such alarming speed that if you close your eyes, you think you are there. When I was little my Nonnie always used to give me apricot juice. It was sweet and yummy and divinely delicious, just like everything (and I mean EVERYTHING) that Nonnie served up. Many years, moons, experiences and travels later, long after Nonnie passed on, I had forgotten about that luscious aroma. Until. One day I came across a bottle of Apricot juice at a friend’s house. Upon being offered some, I instinctively picked up the glass and smelled it. The rush of the sweetness instantly propelled me back to Nonnie’s kitchen, in the safe, warm, comfort of my childhood. I was so simultaneously overwhelmed, taken aback, sad, grateful and reminiscent that I burst into tears on the spot. This year was 30 years since my Nonnie died. I still think about her every day. Her presence lives on forever deep in my heart.