The Power of Scent

Lately I have been thinking about the power of scent, and how it can evoke memories. When I smell apple pie I instantly think of my Grandma Annie's house on Sunday afternoon's. How even when I wasn't hungry I knew that I would be eating that pie or pay the consequences. She never made pumpkin pie, but a fall favorite for our family was squash pie. When it was time to leave we always got a big kiss that we were not allowed to wipe off until we were well out of Grandma's eagle eye view.
Then there was my own home. To say that my parents worked full time would be an understatement. They worked nonstop, and never took a vacation. My parents owned a little drive in burger joint, a local legend for those who remember, many in our little community do. You could find my mom there cleaning at daybreak, and my father would close every night. My parents would come home from work and smell like The Polar King. We were greeted by the smell of delicious hamburgers, and fresh cut french fries.
Another scent that reminds me of my mother is Est`e Lauder Youth Dew in the Blue bottle, and it really does smell different in that blue bottle, no matter what anyone says. While on a cruise a few years back I was seated four tables over from a woman about the same age as my mother who was wearing this same scent. After dinner I was compelled to walk up to her and tell her that I loved her perfume. I also asked her if it was from the blue bottle. Yes, I probably looked like a nut, but that didn't stop me from asking.
As for my father there is no scent on earth that I miss more than Marlboro Reds. I know it seems strange but whenever I smell someone smoking his brand I get teary eyed, and miss him painfully. A few months after his passing I was in a common outdoor area of the USU campus, walking from the bookstore to my history class, when suddenly I walked through a cloud of smoke. I had a knee jerk reaction, and turned around expecting to see him. Of course it wasn't him, just some undergrad quietly pondering life's mysteries. I made the time to sit down on a nearby bench for just a minute or two, and breath in that scent.
One last example, every Wednesday a neighborhood friend would come over to help my mom with the laundry, ironing and some household chores. I always loved Wednesdays. The house always smelled like crisp clean laundry, a little bit of bleach and a spicy scented candle. I could smell it from the street, and would rush to the door and take a big deep breath. The house smelled like Wednesday.
Now That I have a family of my own I wonder what kind of scent triggered memories I am creating. What will my own daughter remember? Will she notice that I light my White Cotten candle when I clean or work on laundry? Will she remember that I like the house to smell like baked goods when we have company? Does she notice that I only use my Lampe Burger Lemon Flower scent to chase away a fowl mood?
These are my memories, and my favorite scents, but what are yours? Tell us your story.