It's amazing what scent can do.
It's finally chilly enough at night here that I broke out the flannel sheets yesterday--the sheets that had been carefully folded up and tucked away since last winter.
I have my grandmother's cedar hope chest that I rescued from her attic when I was in college. Rich helped me refinish the badly dried out wood, and the cedar scent came back. It was my first coffee table in college, and it has held blankets and sheets since I became a real live grown up with an actual coffee table.
When I finally got into bed last night, the cedar in the sheets wrapped around me like an extra blanket and a hug. It had been a long day, and I was exhausted. With one sniff, I was back in my childhood, climbing through Mom's cedar closet to find the perfect dress up clothes or to get the leaves for the table for a celebration. I was back in Gram's stairway closet digging out the picnic basket for a trip to the dam. I was digging through Grandma's blanket stack for the perfect throw to snuggle up in on her bed because you couldn't possibly get under the sheets with your clothes on.
I drifted off wrapped in cedar and warmth and love, and that is something to be grateful for.