So a woman that smelled like my grandma sat down next to me on the train the other day. This doesn't happen often because, you know, my grandma never really smelled like anyone. She had that grandma smell that if you put her in a grandma line-up and someone blindfolded you, you would have totally known which grandma was my grandma. It was this mix of lightly scented floral hand lotion, fresh of the clothesline clothes smell and a dash of( I swear to this day) smells like she rubbed daisies all over body. When you'd give her this big hug, it would stay with you. Not in a gross "I smell like old person" way. That's rude. This was nice.

"You know, you smell like what my grandma used to smell like." I say to the woman who is now reading a folded over newspaper."

She looks at me for a second. Raises an eyebrow over her thick rimmed glasses and just nods and returns to read her newspaper.

"So how's your day going?" I ask trying to get her attention again.

"Fine... just fine... and yours?" She asks putting the paper in her lap. She shifts her body towards me on the train and smiles.

"You know, it's been tough these past couple of days with deadlines and just trying to get stuff done and..."

We continue the ride talking about everything that has been going on in each others lives. I told her about my last few vacations. She told me about the birds she's been watching out in the back bird feeder of her house and about the seeds she had to shake out of the now dying flowers so she can replant for the next season. We laughed and she playfully tapped on the shoulder to tell me that I was making her laugh too hard.

As the train arrived at my stop I got up and wrapped my backpack around my shoulder and hugged her and told her I'd see her again soon. The instant I stepped off the train and headed up to the busy city street I felt a whole bit lighter.

Of course, this didn't at all happen. I ended up sitting next to this woman in complete silence while she paged through her newspaper slowly breathing not to draw attention to the fact that she indeed did smell like my Oma, but in fact was not my Oma.

But sometimes, so we don't forget them, we have to imagine that they're there with us in those moments where usually nothing happens. While brushing your teeth or clipping your toenails or Swiffering the hardwood floors or on the train ... some song or the way the light hits a wall or the way something smells will instantly have you in that moment conversing and chatting like the people you have lost are never really gone.

That's the great thing about the past. It's like a good perfume... too much of it is overbearing, but just the right amount in the right spots will make people unforgettable.