How memories rooted in scent endure—and evolve—far from where they began
For BYU–Hawai’i students and an alumna, home does not always arrive as a place. A sudden scent can pull them backward in time—into backyards, family kitchens or long afternoons after rain, they said. Living far from where they grew up, they said those moments become a reminder of who they were, who shaped them and who they are trying to become.
Fresh cut lilacs
For Maggie Bulkey, a 2024 BYUH alumna, home lives in the scent of lilacs. She said she did not realize how powerful the smell could carry memory until recently, while browsing a perfume shop’s spring collection. When she came across a fragrance called “Fresh Cut Lilacs,” the soft, flowery scent—sweet and slightly grassy with a powdery freshness—immediately transported her to the backyard of the condo complex where she grew up. Lilac bushes lined the space just outside her back door, she said. “Every time I smell lilacs, I get reminded of being outside as a kid, rolling down the little hill and riding my scooter around.”
Bulkey described feeling “a flood” of peace and nostalgia. In that backyard, she said, she felt safe, worrying only about crashing her scooter or getting grass stains on her jeans. The memory lingered long after she left the store, she said. Wanting to hold onto it, she bought multiple versions of the scent so it could fill her room. Already drawn to floral fragrances and decor in her room, she said this one “has definitely been the most impactful” to lift her mood simply by sitting there.
Over time, Bulkey said the smell has shifted from a vivid childhood scene to a steady emotional anchor. Now, she said the scent brings less of the image of the hill and more of the calm tied to that memory. It reminds her that she still “has the ability to relax and be imaginative … and that I don’t need to be so stressed out all the time,” especially in navigating adulthood.
Birthday morning
The buttery and custardy smell of German pancakes has its own place in heart, said Ember Lusinde, a junior from Indiana majoring in communications, media and culture.
Every birthday growing up, Lusinde said, she would wake to the scent of them baking in the oven. Unlike flat griddle pancakes, the version her mother made—sometimes called puffy pancakes—closer to a crepe in taste but golden and airy in form, she explained.
Excitement came first as soon as she found that buttery smell, Lusinde said, followed by comfort. As a child, the scent simply meant celebration even for her siblings too. “It’s that feeling of family love and our family time.”
Now living far from home, Lusinde carries the recipe from memory and makes the pancakes for her roommates—not just for birthdays, but for ordinary evenings together. She said cooking for them creates a sense of belonging, especially since many of them are also far from family.
When we eat together or cook for each other, it shows appreciation. That helps connect us, and “acts of service are the way I show love,” she said.
What was once an act of love given to her has become one she gives, Lusinde said. “When I make it, I’m putting my own work and effort into it. I’m kind of trying to recreate the feeling my mom gave me, but now it is for my roommates.”
The ease of rain
For Michael Gardner, a sophomore double majoring in anthropology and political science from Utah, memories of childhood surface in the earthy scent of rain.
Gardner said he grew up in Arizona from ages 3 to 12, where intense monsoon storms arrived each August. “The storms would come in, and all my friends and my family would go out. The streets would be flooded, and we’d just go and play in the puddles.” The scent—earthy and sharp as the rain approached— mirrors what he smells here in Hawaiʻi after a downpour, he said.
Gardner’s core memories from the rain is his father taking him and his siblings to wet grassy hills to slide on their stomachs after the rain, he said. “Back then during the rainy season, school would sometimes get canceled, and I got to have fun all day,” he said. The smell, tied to those formative years, has not changed for him. Now, whenever he hears rain coming or catches its scent, he said it helps him relax. He said he hopes one day to pass that same sense of carefree childhood on to his own children. “I don’t know how I’m going to do it, but I want to pass on that feeling—maybe just by being around them,” Gardner said.