Memory is the diary that we all carry about with us ~ Oscar Wilde

I was unofficially introduced to the world of blogging from the moment I first watched Doogie Howser MD on tv. I was taken by the idea of penning down my take on the events of the day because I thought it would be great for one to revisit one’s thoughts from yesteryear. Having no access to computers back in the late 80s and 90s, it was only a thought that lingered in my mind at the end of every episode of Doogie Howser. So those wishful thinking of keeping a journal electronically never materialised.

Later during my second years at Taman Bukit Maluri, my English teacher introduced us journal keeping as a way to help us improve our English Language composition and writing. She said for one to be able to write better in a second language, one must compose one’s thoughts in that language rather than direct translating their thoughts in their mother tongue. I really enjoyed journal-keeping even though I knew back then my command of English language wasn’t as polished as my present writing skills. My journal-keeping was on tab until I moved to a boarding school simply because I find time a luxury I didn’t have with the hectic schedule there.

It was only in the early 2000s that I sort of started keeping journal again, all thanks to the introduction of blogging by some colleagues at work. Where am I going with this rambling, you may wonder? I was going through my sort-of online journal on the anidraw.blogspot.com page and I came across an entry that strike a chord in my heart. It was an entry I wrote following my eldest son, Azhan and his papa’s departure back to England on. As mentioned in the entry, the temporaryseparation was hard.

During that separation period, I remember vividly how much I miss Azhan. Azhan never said it out loud though. He showed his feelings one day when he requested that his papa plant roses in the front garden for me because he remembered how much I love roses. As the roses bloomed during my first summer in England, Azhan said to me as he sniffed the roses; “they smell like momma”. It was then I realised that Azhan planted those roses because its scent reminded him of his momma. He probably wanted to emulate my presence there by planting those roses. At this point, I wasn’t aware of the dots between scent and memory.

Only recently when I came across a chapter in the essential oil desk reference on the influence of aroma and scent that I realised the connection between smell and memory. As I devour the facts and studies presented in this chapter, I realised then that I too had planted Jasmine in my balcony garden simply because they remind me of my late grandma. In fact, I have written previously here on what scents remind me of her. 

Come and join me and my Young Living team to know how you too could create this scent-memory with and for your loved ones.

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