May was always the most beautiful. Grandmother sat on the wall of the flower bed under a blooming lilac and I often went to smell it and longed to immerse myself in its flowers. I remember once looking at her sitting under a lilac tree, leaning both hands on a mallet and dozing with a soft Mona Lisa smile on her lips. She enjoyed his scent as much as I did, and it crossed my mind that I would remember this moment forever as a memory of my grandmother, home, and family.

I often recall memories, places and feelings with the smell. Sometimes my own mind boggles my mind because the smell brings images and places I have never been to in this life. A friend of mine recently told me that after digging up bones at an archeological dig, she finds it hard to believe in a soul and that we are nothing more than dust. And I, on the other hand, have never been more sure of anything than that the soul exists. I believe that the bones are the matter that holds us in this world, but the soul is eternal and like a thread it is pulled through different matter and connects with other threads.