As a little girl, I spent July and August with my family at our summer home outside of Boston. My grandma would always join us, which I loved. I remember driving down to the house with the windows invariably rolled down because my grandma would be doused in this heady perfume called Shalimar by Guerlain, which I found comforting and didn’t mind, but my mother was very sensitive to.

My grandma is very special to me. She’s 103 now, and when I think of our time together as a child, I’m reminded of her unconditional love and warmth. She was an exceptional cook, and she let us do everything we otherwise weren’t allowed to at home. She always stocked the fridge with our favorite junk food, let us jump on the bed, and watch TV late at night. I would put on all her costume jewelry and pretend I was a princess.

At the summer house, the two of us had this wonderful ritual of taking walks into the woods to collect bouquets of lily of the valley flowers. She’d hold my hand as we walked along a path nestled between tall trees sloping upwards to the right, and a field of bright white flowers sloping downward to the left.

I can clearly remember when we’d approach the field of flowers. The dappled warm light from the forest above revealed a beautiful tapestry of white, bell-shaped flowers, carpeting the undergrowth. As a kid, when you saw that you just wanted to dive right in.

When we arrived, I was so excited and almost overwhelmed by the vastness of the sea of white. I was a collector and I just wanted to pick everything! I remember my grandma would always create this really thick bouquet, made of long green stems with a bright white top, accented with green leaves to make it look just right. My little fist couldn’t hold as many as hers, so I focused on collecting the white flowers only. I’d look for the most perfect ones, the little white bells with curls and ruffles just so. I used to shake them because I thought they would make a noise because they looked like bells to me.

But really what I remember most about being in that field with my grandma is the scent of the flowers. The scent was so uplifting. It has this upward movement, as if it was coming to greet you. To me it’s a fresh, bright, clean, green, sweet, feminine smell, like my grandma. It’s a smell that reminds me of happiness, of freedom, and love.

The freshness for me isn’t active, but it’s almost bursting. It’s so strong and yet so soft. It’s a very powerful scent when you’re surrounded by so many flowers. I feel like it knocks out the other scents, but not in a bad way. More like in a clearing the slate way. And it’s just for a little while, for a moment.

It grabs your attention and makes you focus on it, but I would never say it’s overpowering. It just wipes the slate clean, then gradually allowing other scents to come in later. It’s as if the scent was saying just for this moment we’re going to wash out everything else. Just clean, just clear, just free.

Today when I smell a lily of the valley flower, I try to savor the moment. I breathe in deeply and take in its intoxicating scent. I’ll actually take the time to pick the flower because my grandma and I always made bouquets with it. Maybe I’ll even put it in my hair. I don’t like picking flowers. I like them to grow in nature. But these flowers I’ll pick because I have that memory. It’s part of the memory, picking the flower, making the bouquet, and spending the time with my grandma.

The scent of the lily of the valley flowers embodies that time spent in nature, with my grandmother. It’s all the parts I want to keep of her: her joy, her love, her generosity, her warmth, her caring nature.

If the scent had a sound, what would it be? The sound of taking the husk off the corn, it makes a waxy squeak.

If the scent had a color, what would it be? Bright white, but the warmth of white, like a light bulb.

If the scent had a texture, what would it be? Smooth, slightly waxy.

If the scent could give you advice, what would it tell you? It would tell me to appreciate the small things, and to feel the joy. Appreciate nature and moments together. Live your life to the fullest. Remember the beautiful times because they’re not going to last forever.