Smells. Tears. Memories.

"You smell like peaches."
That's what my twelve year old brother leaned over to whisper to me in church on Sunday. Recently, the memory of smell has amazed me. I smelled someones detergent the other day and it smelled like my ex-boyfriend... first, I sneezed because I'm allergic to it... and then memories flooded back. All the tears, the drama, the pain. I walked into my room after Thanksgiving break and it smelled musty... and I didn't want it to go away because it smelled like Capernwray. I had black tea the other day, and, as I drowned my senses in the smell, I was taken back to High Tea at Capernwray when my dear friends Jeremiah and Derek used to make me tea. The smell of cinnamon buns reminds me of birthdays, because as I grew up, my mom made them for us on our birthdays. The smell of wine reminds me of France, and staying with one of the most precious missionary families I have ever met. I have never felt like such a welcomed guest as I did in that house. Hot chocolate and grape pop reminds me staying with Hannah in Manchester last Christmas... being snowed in the house, with such a random assortment of people, and crying on Christmas day because they got me a basket of Christmas gifts. I was so overwhelmed by their kindness and thoughtfulness. Tears are streaming down my face as I remember these people that I may never see again. I treasure these memories, yet find it hard not to live in the past when they rush back with such emotion.
Last night at work, my ex-boyfriend's best friend's cousin came in. Random, I know. It's actually not that random, because I went to school with all three of them. Seeing her brought up so many rotten memories of High School. What a rotten time in life. And she said, "I thought you went to Europe?" "I did," I replied... "I was gone for a year." The best year of my life. God's love became so real to me. I worshiped more passionately than I ever have. My relationships were deeper than any of the ones I have here. I am struggling to understand why I am here. WHAT is my purpose in Columbia, South Carolina? Why have I been given these precious experiences and memories? Why have so few of my friendships continued past Capernwray? Why must I be as loyal as a dog, and yet feel like I have been put in the pound, unwanted? It's not true; I know it. But my heart is in so many pieces. Why do I seem to be in a cycle of mourning? Is this healthy?