I still remember the first time I walked down those slippery, worn-out limestone steps into the Grotto of the Nativity. The air down there is thick—heavy with beeswax, old incense, and the…
I was six years old, and my dad’s bathrobe smelled faintly of mothballs. That’s what…
I was seven years old, standing on a plywood stage in a bathrobe that smelled…
I can still smell the stale coffee and pine needles from a Christmas Eve twenty…
I still remember the smell of the old carpet in my childhood Sunday School classroom.…
I still remember the scratchy wool of my Sunday best and the smell of old…
I still remember the specific smell of the church basement where we held the annual…
I can still smell the mothballs on that bathrobe. I was seven years old, standing…