My Grandma Buige lived two blocks away when I was a little girl, and I loved visiting her. Her house was like a refuge. As soon as I stepped in and smelled that special smell—a mixture of her Tabu perfume, the Oil of Olay she smoothed on her face, and the fresh flowers she kept on her dining table, I felt safe and comforted.
Grandma Buige saw me through every step of growing up, and when she died one week after I graduated from college I knew nothing could ever replace her presence in my life. I missed her terribly, and wished she could have been there when I got married a few years later and then had two children of my own.
I really needed Grandma Buige when my little son, Griffin, didn’t seem to be putting on weight. I arranged for him to see a specialist. During the week before the appointment I prayed every day—Please, God, I want Griffin healthy—but my anxiety only grew.
Then one afternoon as I was putting Griffin down for a nap, I paused. There was a distinct fragrance in his room. Familiar somehow. Of course. I was sure. It was that mixture of Tabu perfume, Oil of Olay, and fresh flowers. Where is that coming from? I wondered. It smells just like Grandma Buige’s old house.
Yet I couldn’t find its source. Griffin’s whole room smelled like Grandma Buige’s. And only his room, nowhere else. Just like when I was a girl, I felt comforted and safe.
From that point on, whenever I began to worry about Griffin, I would go to his room, where the smell of my grandma’s house was all around. Later that week the specialist confirmed that there was no need to worry. Griffin might grow more slowly than other children, but he was perfectly healthy.
Relieved, I brought my baby home from the doctor’s. When I put Griffin to bed that evening, I noticed the scent again, but only faintly. The next morning it was gone altogether. Grandma Buige’s comforting fragrance had been there when I needed it, wafted in on the wings of an angel.
