My Basement- Part Three

Nona and Ellie's House.

There are certain summer days when the humidity hangs in a certain way that when combined with the dampness of my basement, has a scent just like my grandmother’s basement used to have. I’m not sure what the exact circumstances are that creates this smell- only that when it happens, it usually happens in the summer months, and it happens too infrequently.

When it meets me, it’s almost always when I reach the bottom of the basement stairs. And when I catch it, I have to be careful to take it in in just the right way- otherwise it can fade- sometimes with a turn of the head.

My grandmother’s basement was damp too, though I don’t remember thinking of it in that way when I was small. But it must have been, not only because of the scent that I remember, but because there used to be some stone troughs cut into the floor. And while I never saw water in them, I knew they were there for that reason.

Her basement was divided into three main areas. On the left as you came down the stairs, was darkness. There lurked the furnace and whatever gremlins lived in and around it. There was also the remains of what I was told was once a coal chute. I was told that once upon a time, they had to shovel coal in their furnace for heat. I had never heard of such a thing before. Of course, this was the grandmother that, when she was small, had ridden in a covered wagon- so maybe it was true.

The right half of the basement was where my aunt stored her boxes. And since it was my aunt, these boxes were all neat and organized- unless we were visiting. If we were visiting, then the piles of boxes, like the couch cushions and furniture upstairs, turned into forts. These forts were great fun for having shootouts and such, and were especially great for building hideaways.

In the left center of the basement, near the foot of the stairs, was a small room that my aunt used for a workshop. I remember the room having some tools and a drawing board and a cot and a light that once tipped over that I got blamed for- but not by my aunt. The room was a little dark and filled with cool stuff, and since it was out of the way and down the basement, it made it even better and more mysterious- like some forbidden island.

My aunt lived pretty much her whole life with her mom. My grandmother was one of the nicest people I've ever known, but I think that no matter how nice people are, and no matter how well they get along, there are times when we each need our own space. There are times when we all need a fort of our own.

This scent was a part of that basement. I paid little attention to it back when I was ten years old. It was just there. But now, every so often, when the air is just right, I’ll catch it at the bottom of my basement stairs and it'll take me back to my grandmother's house, if only for a brief moment.