the setting:
Tuesday morning, 11:30 am
I am in the washroom applying mascara
The radio is on, tuned to CBC, playing music from post-war 40s era
I have a chickpea, green peas, and mushroom curry simmering on the stove
Incense is burning to mask the smell of fried shallots
The window is open and I hear the echo of cars driving by

what’s on my mind:
I am thinking about what I need to do once I get to the lab, I feel weird that I am not there. We have meetings at 1pm on Tuesdays so I’m normally there in the morning. The meeting was moved to 3pm. I’m thinking about my todo list, and about going to Regina. Thinking that I can’t completely remember what home is like, family home or having a family in a building. It has become foreign.

the trigger:
It suddenly smells like boiling hotdogs. The aromas of fried shallots, simmering curry, incense, and fresh air mingle together and in my head and it smells like boiling hotdogs. Possibly some kraft dinner cooking in there too.

the flashback:
I am in grade school. For some reason I am at home but it is not the weekend and I am not sick and it’s not the summer. Perhaps it’s during the Christmas holidays. One of those days during the holidays where it wouldn’t have made a difference if you got to stay home or had to go to school. An unremarkable day. Lunch is cooking and we will eat at precisely noon while we watch the Flintstones on CKCK-TV. I can smell the hotdogs and I am getting excited because soon I will have lunch and the Flintstones to watch.

the results:
I’m eating my curry with some tofu. Someone also happened to sneak some ketchup on my plate.