There are smells that come from Glade Plug-ins and perfume bottles, and there are smells that come from dumpster heaps and sweaty boys. Then there are smells that are neither, that just exist. For example, your home, a hotel, or the office have smells specific to them that are neither good nor bad. They simply are the smells associated with that building.

This morning, I caught a whiff of a smell that immediately reminded me of Christmas of 1989 (and I admit, I had to count backward from my high school graduation to get to this date because I only remember it was the year before I entered 6th grade). We were moving out of our house on St. Marie Circle and into Uncle Angus’s house for a short time before our house on Surreyglen Way was completed. I remember walking through the empty house, feeling incredibly sad about leaving. I loved–and still love–that house. I had so many great memories there, and interestingly, most of my dreams take place in that house more than any other place I’ve lived in since. I remember carrying around my Dodger (from “Oliver & Company,” which I don’t think I ever saw, but just got the stuffed animal as a gift), pulling him around on a leash like he was a real dog. I vividly recall standing in my empty room, holding Dodger, and wanting to cry.

Then I remember being in Uncle Angus’s house for Christmas. His house was the same layout as our old house, just switched around. I really wanted a Christmas tree, so someone gave me a tiny, decorated artificial tree (about a foot-and-a-half high). We put it on a stand and placed all our presents around it. I also remember making “stained glass” with a kiddie kit with Christine, where we melted colored bead-like things into metal frames of Strawberry Shortcake characters. When we baked them, the odor STUNK up the house. Poor Uncle Angus. Christine and I ran around the house with pillows smushed to our noses. If I smelled that smell today, I probably would still recognize it. Anyway, those are probably the only two memories that I have from that Christmas.

For this Christmas, I will remember moving out of our apartment on 21st Ave. into our home. For the past seven months, we settled in quite nicely into the apartment. The apartment represents our drive from California with our parents, hosting family and friends throughout the summer, meeting new friends in Seattle, getting to know the city by walking around, etc. So when we packed up, cleaned up, and stepped out of the doorway and onto the porch for one last time, I felt that same sadness that I felt 17 years ago when I walked through our empty home. To me, a home is not just a building. It represents everything that you experienced during your time there, and I think that’s why I am so easily attached to my residences.

We’re settling into our new home, and I couldn’t resist putting up a few Christmas decorations although we won’t have a tree this year. It will take awhile for us to fill up the place, since our apartment’s worth of furniture is no where near sufficient for a house, but it’ll do for now. And as time goes by, we’ll celebrate more Christmases there to add to my mental collection of memories.