In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “The Transporter.”

The Daily Post has asked us to…Tell about a sensation — a taste, a smell, a piece of music — that transports you back to childhood.

As a child I spent nearly every Friday night at my grandmother’s house on Packard’s Pond in Orange MA. The house was a converted camp resting in the shadow of Tully Mountain. My grandparents had settled there as they neared retirement. It was all pine trees and mountain air.

On Friday nights my father would take me and my sister over to a ham dinner and then on Saturday my grandmother would wash clothes and do the grocery shopping around  Saturday morning cartoons (my shows) and Saturday afternoon bowling (my grandfather’s shows). She often threw open all the windows on Saturday (except in the dead of winter) to air the camp out.

To this day the scent of a pine candle (the smell of the lake air), the smell of cilantro (the scent of clean laundry) or the fragrance of cloves (a cooking ham dinner) drive me back to the days of my boyhood.