Our senses are often strong emotional links to memories—even if those memories seem fuzzy and distant, sometimes one of our senses can make them seem sharp. I think one of the best ways to think about home is to think about it through our five senses. So, considering my five senses, I’ve thought of five aspects of my home that I associate with each sense.
Sight
Now, this one may sound kind of funny. A sight that never fails to make me think of home is the Mormon Temple on Stone Oak Parkway in my hometown, San Antonio, Texas. Ok, let me explain this one. Every day for about the past ten years, I’ve driven past that Mormon Temple. I passed it every day when my parents drove me to school, and eventually, I passed it every day as I drove myself to school. When I drive home from Baylor, and I see that Mormon Temple, I know I’m almost home
Hearing
Something that reminds me of home is the couple of creaky steps on our staircase, as well as the weirdly creaky part of the floor outside of my room. Something most people know about me is that I’m a night owl, regularly staying up until odd hours of the night, reading, watching TV, or crafting. I’ve been a night owl for quite a while. Ever since I was a kid, I was always staying up past my bedtime after my parents put me to bed (sorry, Mom). Often nights, I would sneak downstairs for a snack, learning how to not make a sound to alert my parents I was awake, distributing my weight so that it wouldn’t creak. So whenever I hear the squeak of the stairs, it really does make me feel at home, remembering all the fond nights I stayed up late.
Smell
When I was a little kid, bath time was always fun. My sister and I would play with little plastic Polly Pocket dolls and those annoying water flutes my Mom eventually got rid of. After bath time, or showering when I got older, I still fondly remember the scent of my mom spraying hairspray from a purple bottle into my wet, brushed-out hair. I became so used to and fond of that scent that it kind of makes me miss the times when I was little and my mom would spray my long hair and dry it with her yellow hairdryer. Those fond memories of bath time and the hair spray always make me think of home.
Taste
As far back as I can recall, I remember every birthday my Mom would buy Hostess powdered doughnuts. My sister and I were obsessed with them, and my Mom wouldn’t buy them any other day of the year. I would get excited before each birthday, specifically knowing that soon I could have Hostess powdered doughnuts, cut up strawberries, and chocolate milk. Now that I’m grown, I eat Hostess powdered doughnuts, but not always on my birthday. But every time I do eat them, I think of all those mornings at home when I’d rush down the stairs for Hostess powdered doughnuts.
Touch
A few years ago, my parents went out of town for a couple of nights and left me home alone overnight for the first time. My Mom made me sleep downstairs in their bedroom, and I had the blissful experience of the best sheets known to man. Instantly, I begged her for some of my own. I’m a big napper and sleeper, so I was already attached to my bed, but the attachment I have to those sheets made me love my bed even more. The sheets are made from bamboo and feel like heaven. I love them so much that I was determined to have them for college. Every day for weeks, I checked to see if they restocked the sheets in twin XL lavender. After coming to college, it’s gotten to feel like I’ve taken a little piece of home with me due to the heavenly bamboo sheets.
At the end of the day, home isn’t just a place. It can also be a feeling. Every sense– sight, sound, smell, taste, touch holds special memories of what home is to me. So, no matter where I go, I have little reminders that I always carry home with me.