My grandmothers are full of memories, smelling of soap and onions and wet clay, with veins rolling roughly over quick hands, they have many clean words to say, my grandmothers were strong.
Sentiment: POSITIVE
I'm one of these children who grew up at the knee of my grandmother and her elder sister, listening to very old people talk about their memories.
My childhood memories seem to be wreathed in the twin and far from harmonious olfactory sensations of patchouli oil and caustic soda.
I always remember having a healthy respect for my grandmother.
The memories that I have are mostly at our old ranch, out in Agoura. We used to go out there every Saturday. I can smell the oak trees. I can see it so clearly.
My mother was a great bringer-up of children. My memories are of a sense of security and comfort.
Scents evoke very, very powerful memories, whether it's the scent of someone that you know and someone that you love, or if it's a meal that your mother made.
Yes, I always remember my dad's, mom's and my grandma's perfumes.
I never saw my grandfather because he had died before I was born, but I have good memories of my grandmother and of how she could play the piano at the old house.
I think it's important to recall... what you remember your grandmother making, where you're from and the foods you enjoyed as a child yourself, and pass that information off to your kids.
Memories are like mercury. Every time you sort of try to get near them, they slip out of your hand like a bar of soap.