The smell of home

I think I will have to do this. Whether I end up at Tufts or across the world in the coming year, I will have to bring some reminders of home. I don’t want to ever forget the smells of home. The smell of pasta that my mother cooks, the smell of the fog in the early morning, or the smell of the ocean as the fog recedes. I know this may seem like a childish thing to do, holding on to the past. But I’ve come to the realization that sometimes doing things that seem childish help people grow. I’m not saying that I will cry every night because I miss home so much, it’s not even about missing home. It’s mostly about remembering the places that have had the largest impact on my life.