The Smells of Home

Home smells like various autumn scents from burning wax melts and purple Fabuloso floor cleaner. It smells like a department store perfume catalog with a hint of men's cologne, but I always say it smells like an advertisement for black cherry merlot because it's my mom's favorite perfume and even when she's not home the scent lingers the longest out of all our perfume preferences. Home smells like my dad's chewing tobacco and spit-bottles because he insists on leaving them on the coffee table when he goes out of town for work and never throws them away. Home smells like soggy dog chew toys and damp fur mingling with the smells of broccoli and eggs whites and chicken that my sisters tend to cook daily. Home smells like an old library stocked with freshly printed books that just happens to be conjoined to a shoe store and a laundromat that always smells of fresh sneakers and Fabreeze tide-pods. Home smells of freshly lit candles, my sister's bakery apron, home-cooked meals, happy pets, and a family who can't tell if it's one sibling's atrocious smelling socks in the doorway or just too many vegetables boiling in the kitchen at once. More than anything, home just smells like comfort.