Sniff Happens

I lost my sense of smell a number of years ago and didn’t realize it for the longest time.

Apparently I didn’t sniff around enough to notice.

People often ask, “But can you still taste food?” Yes, thank heavens, otherwise I’d be living on oatmeal and water. So, no need to panic, chocolate still matters.

I’m writing about this because I’m surprised I don’t miss smelling. Or maybe I did once, but it’s been gone so long my brain forgot how much fun sniffing used to be.

Maybe smell isn’t tied to my taste buds at all but to my memory bank. Who doesn’t lean into a rose or chase the kitchen aroma of fresh-baked bread? We were trained as kids to sniff things: flowers, food, even crayons. (Don’t tell me you never sniffed a crayon.)

Of course, there are perks. Garbage cans? Nothing. Dog accidents? Blissfully unaware.

Bathrooms long overdue for a scrub? I simply compliment the décor and move on.

Still, I do have to outsource certain olfactory chores. “Do the dogs smell?” I’ll ask a visitor. If they say yes, I hand them the room spray. They blast away, gagging, while I breathe deeply like I’m at a spa.

Truth be told, I don’t remember smell ever changing my life— except ether. As a child I had two surgeries under that ghastly gas. To this day, the hiss of hospital doors makes me cringe.

So no, my world hasn’t collapsed without whiffs. But every once in a while, I’d like to inhale the scent of fresh-cut grass on a hot summer afternoon. Just one whiff, no sneeze.