Cinnamon Apple, Cherry Blossom, Marshmallow Banana

I scratched the parchment, my nose tingling as it searched to pick up any scent of sweet pea waterfall.

“I do not smell anything.” I announced, still sniffing the paper like a dog looking for a non-existent bone.

“Oh, don’t be ridiculous. These scratch-n-sniffs always work.” My sister Julianne tore the paper from my hands and furiously clawed at one of the circles, pressing the paper to her face. Instantly, a ripple of surprise and pleasure blossomed from her face.

“This cherry blossom is the best smelling one on here.” She scavenged for a pen and marked a dash on the order form. I felt my mind twitch with irritation.

“Well obviously we have to check with dad if that’s the one that Sena wants. After all, we’re making this homecoming celebration for her.” I retorted.            

“I’m sure Sena will be pleased with anything we get her- she loves all candles.”

I frowned with a sour expression and replied, “But especially the ones that smell like home.”

We were a quaint family of five with three typically closely bonded sisters and the wonderful mother and father who lit candles every night when we gathered around to tell stories and share the events of the day. At least, that was us in the past. Today, we are a family of four with shattered sisters, a broken father, and a non-existent mother. We haven’t purchased a single candle since our mother’s death; the memories of the scents have been still much too painful for either Julianne or father to bear. Sena, our older sister, has spent the last two years fighting with the U.S. Army overseas. I’m not really sure what made her choose to fight, but she claimed it was her calling ever since mom died. Sena had said that it’s time she make a move and start saving lives instead of watching lives being taken from her. Julianne and I thought she was crazy and begged her not to go, but Dad had just nodded and told her to pursue her dreams. We’ve contacted her briefly over the years, but the army has this strange rule where they want you to try and forget your family otherwise it would be more painful to fight – they wanted you to make a new family with your army brothers and sisters so you wouldn’t leave them behind if you thought about retreating during the battle.

Fair game, I suppose. But Sena was coming home, for the first time since she left. And we were going to make the best homecoming celebration ever.  

I taped up a string of family pictures onto the wall and paused to notice Sena’s beautiful complexions differing from my coarse skin and rough smile. There was a picture from years ago with Mom and Sena together, posing ridiculously for the camera, and a pang stabbed my heart.

“Get moving Lizzy!” Julianne yelled from the other side of the room, where she was hanging up wreaths. “Dad is going to pick up Sena in about five house and we still need to clean this house, set up the candles, and prepare dinner!” 

“Yes Julianne!” I stuck the last photo on the wall. “I’m working on it!”

I pelted over to the living room where Dad was nailing up large poster boards of “Welcome Home!” and “We Missed You!” My heart tingled in excitement as I brought out the fall-colored table cloth and reached for the candle lighter.  

“No Lizzy!” Dad shouted unexpectedly, and I jumped, almost falling to the ground. “Not the candles. We light those last so the scent is fresh when Sena comes in.”

“Yes, father,” I mumbled quietly, almost forgetting. I peered at the ones that Julianne ordered and almost giggled in excitement- Sena’s favorites! Cinnamon apple, cherry blossom, and marshmallow banana. I missed seeing the candles around our house every day that the sight of them made my heart pound. I sprinkled the edge of Sena’s room with sparkly stars and closed the door, rubbing my hands together with excitement. I had only been waiting an entire lifetime to finally get the family back together!

Time flew. By the time I had sat down in exhaustion from sweeping the floor, Dad had already left the house to pick up Sena. Julianne sat next to me on the furry couch, exhaustion also swept up her face as she surveyed the house.  

“Mom would be proud of us. Wouldn’t she be?” I tentatively asked Julianne.

I could feel the warmth in her arms as she hugged me.

“Mom is proud of us, and I’m proud of you too Lizzy. Sena will be so happy.”

I looked at the clock, and then back at Julianne.

“Say… could we light the candles now?”

The scent of cinnamon apple lit the air and filled my nostrils. I closed my eyes; this was the scent of home, family, love.

“Light the cherry blossom in her room.” I told Julianne as I grabbed the marshmallow banana. “I’m lighting this one in the backyard.”

The flame walked on the wick of the candle, pacing back and forth. Julianne and I sat mere yards behind the front door. Our hearts twisted with a nervous wrench. Fingers jumbled together in sweat. What if the flight is delayed? That’s fine, it probably is. What if the General didn’t allow her to come home? No, that’s impossible. What if she couldn’t make it home? What if…

I bit my lip with a sudden anger that I could feel the blood of my mouth squirt out. I winced, fighting back a small whimper. From the corner of my eye I could also tell Julianne was fighting back her nervousness.

And then the sound of the car in the driveway. Julianne and I stood, not breathing, hands pale white, heart beating slowly. One car door slammed.

Silence.

I almost buckled at the ground during that moment, my worst fears confirmed. I felt a sob building inside my throat, the extraordinary moment when you hoped you’d never have to witness this day.

Suddenly, Julianne pulled me from the ground and covered my mouth with her hand, making the motion to be quiet as her eyes were focused on me, intense and fierce.

A second car door slammed.

I burst out crying the minute Sena walked through the door, her camo uniform still on, her dusty, brown, hair in a tight bun, yet those unmistakable, bright, blue eyes that filled with tears present when she saw me. I ran towards her and sprang into her arms, ignoring Julianne’s cry of protest and my father’s loud guffaw. It was a minute of muteness from me before I would force myself to say, through all my happiness,

“Welcome home Sena!”

Dad took Sena’s luggage up to her room while Julianne, Sena, and I sat in the living room, instantly waiting for all her news.

“Holy cow.” Sena said, looking around the house. “It’s so clean and welcoming.” She pressed her palm to her heart and breathed in and out. “How I’ve missed this place, yet coming back seems so strange.” She paused and looked around, focusing on the pictures on the wall I hung up.   

“No… that can’t be…!” Sena got up and raced to the pictures.  

“Is this us during Halloween when I was ten? Wow- I can’t believe…”

Sena’s endless string of words poured out and unconsciously, my mind drifted towards the kitchen, the dance of the candle bothering me. Yes, the cinnamon apple candle was blazing bright as ever. I was quite surprised Sena hadn’t said anything about it yet.

She’s probably much too overwhelmed to be home to notice the wonderful, homely smell, I thought to myself, nodding confidently.

But a tick in the back of my head told me candles were Sena’s favorite in the entire world. If she didn’t immediately notice them, something was definitely wrong.

Time ticked away and finally the family settled together for dinner. My eyes swerved back and forth to the lit candle, the aroma of cinnamon apple pungent in the air. Finally, I could no longer hold it in.  

“Hey Sena do you like the candles we lit? We ordered them especially for you.” I blurted out, immediately receiving a glare from Julianne.

A dead, chilling, silence swept up the room as Sena peered over the table at the flickering candle, and her gaze softened, as if her eyes were melting.

“I’m glad you haven’t forgotten my favorite. It looks lovely. Let’s begin eating!” Sena laughed and father and Julianne hastily joined along.  

Did she say it looks lovely? A sickening feeling grew in my stomach. My dear Sena… candles aren’t for looks.

After dinner, Sena retreated to her room to rest while Julianne, Dad, and I cleaned the table.  

“What was all that about, Lizzy, asking if she saw the candles?” Julianne hissed to me as she wiped the table. “You know very much that today is about her, not you, yet you continue to point out things you’ve done.”

“I just wanted to show her that we remembered what she loved,” I said quietly, hurt echoing in my heart.  

Julianne snorted, but didn’t say anything else as she also retired to her room. I peered up at Sena’s room and decided I would take a leap of faith. Quietly entering Sena’s room, I saw her abruptly turn, eyes flaring with alarm.

“Oh! Lizzy, come in.”

“Sorry, am I bothering?” I asked her.

“No, not at all sister. Come, make yourself welcome.”

I carefully stepped in her room and noticed that the cherry blossom candle we had lit was now extinguished. My heart dropped- my suspicions confirmed.  

“I’m sorry I butchered your homecoming.” I blurted out, unable to contain my sadness. “It was my idea to get the candles; if you’d only told me earlier you no longer liked them we didn’t have to get them –”

I broke off when I saw tears in Sena’s eyes, and felt a deep shadow of regret pass over me. Julianne was right- I’ve butchered it and now Sena’s crying. I turned to leave when my sister called out to me.

“Wait- Lizzy, let me explain. I was trying to keep this from you, Julianne, and Pap for as long as I could. But, Lizzy…I hurt myself badly in a fight overseas and was forced to get sinus surgery… the surgery went badly. Doctors told me I would heal but that I’ve lost my sense of smell forever and-”

Sena put her head in her lap, cutting off her sentence, and I knew she was crying. It was a silent weep- one of those where it’s the bad memories kicking in as well. I held my sister in a hug, stunned. Behind her lay the candle, its wick still fresh as ever but wilted at the top.

“So I’m sorry if I can’t bring myself to look at the candles, because I simply can’t smell them anymore.” Her face was a painful grimace when she finished.  

Without speaking, I reached to the desk where Julianne had left the lighter and picked it up, heart throbbing with fear. I reached over to the white candle and paused, hands shaking as I lit the top of the wick and saw a blaze come alive, a dancing star in the night of darkness. I closed my eyes and placed my hands over the candle slightly, feeling the heat and letting the smell trigger my memories- images springing from inside my mind.

            “We’re sitting at a picnic,” I whispered quietly, feeling Sena look up curiously from my right. “We’re sitting at a picnic. You, me, Julianne, Dad, and Mom, and we’re all watching the orchards on the cherry blossom tree bloom.” I grinned instinctively. “Mom’s just laughed at something Dad’s said, and Julianne’s picking flowers to take home. You’re wearing those nice baggy overalls and you’re laughing as I threw a bunch of the flowers at you.”

I inhaled the cherry blossom candle and let silence pass between us- when I opened my eyes, something wet drips from my eyes but I’m scared to admit what it is. And then I see that Sena is quiet too.

            “Lizzy, when I lost my sense of smell, I wasn’t really scared of losing it for the future, but for the past. Because all these candle scents and other smells carry our memories- Mom’s memories- and I didn’t want to lose them.”

            “You don’t have to,” I whispered, my voice catching as I set down the cherry blossom candle. “I’ll tell you everything about what they smell like and you can always remember.”

Sena and I crept downstairs to the living room where the cinnamon apple was still blazing, the scent caught in my nose. We lay on the ground next to the fireplace, setting the candle between our bodies and closing our eyes.  

            “It’s Christmas and we’ve hung up the stockings- the cinnamon apple is burning brightly and mom lectures Julianne for lighting one before we eat dinner. The smoky scent of the candle is blazing warm, delicate in taste and we laugh over Dad’s silly mistake earlier that day thinking it was Christmas Eve. Mom’s hanging the ornaments on the tree that we just bought for her, and one of them is a phrase that says how lucky I am to have something that makes saying goodbye so hard.”

I choked on my last few words, and opened my eyes to find Julianne and Dad gathered around the fireplace as well, their eyes both glazed with tears, and it was then that I realized that my family was here, together, even Mom, sharing our love for candles that had the ability to make us remember again what we’ve lost and what we’ve had.

And Sena doesn’t need to be able to smell to feel the emotions of love and share her pain and loss, because well, the candles are here, and so are we.