The Scent in the Car

Sometimes, out of nowhere, the strongest scent of hospital cleaning products fills my car.

There's nothing around that would cause it. No cleaning products, no reason for it. It just arrives — strong, unmistakable, filling the whole car.

It only ever happens when I'm driving. Not just this car, either. Every car I've owned.

I love it when it happens.

Because that's when I know she's with me.

"Hi Nanna," I'll say. "What are you up to? Just checking in?"

I don't question it anymore. I don't try to explain it away or figure out where it's really coming from. I just let it sit there for a moment — that particular, specific smell, the one that means hospital corridors and mopped floors — and I let myself believe she's popped in.

Then, as suddenly as it arrived, it's gone. And I keep driving.