Happiness smells like…. bacon

My picture at the Poe Museum

Being a massage therapist will put you in some weird and awkwardly strange situations. How so? Well, you might be asked about your past, or if you are dealing with an aroma class, you may just be asked what happiness smells like to you… no lie. Other people in the class may have gawked, and played with their pens, and stared off into the deep looking for some meaningful scent connection but I knew it. And, I will probably always use this as my answer even though the teacher either thinks I’m really funny or a total jackass.

Teacher: “Yes, you raised your hand. What does happiness smell like?”

Me: “Bacon, happiness totally smells like bacon.”

And there’s a few snickers, and a few people laugh, even I crack up a little trying to keep a totally straight face so the teacher doesn’t think I am one of those trouble makers. Immediately they are compelled to ask, “But… why bacon?” And, in the teacher’s head she is probably thinking ohmygod this girl is totally screwing with me and now I just opened the floor up to her. And the real reason is actually kind of personal so I do screw around with her and say that bacon is one of those smells like coffee that just smells amazing.

The truth is, the reason why bacon smells like happiness is because my mother, who never cooks, would make bacon for us. It was when we had her father in the house and a pretty dark time in our family, so the smell of bacon and it cooking brought us together and was one of those happy moments. My brother hadn’t moved out yet, and I felt closer with my brother than I had ever felt in my life. We stopped bickering so much as brother and sister and were comrades.

When I think of bacon I think of her cooking, me and my brother running into the kitchen and trying to steal all of it for ourselves. I think of laughter and goofing around, my mom at the pan expertly not burning them to crisps and making grilled cheese and bacon sandwiches with soup… tomato soup, of course. It was one of those things you could smile on, which was hard to find in two years of darkness we were in as a family, and that I was in as an individual too. It reminded me of simpler times and when things were so much easier.