Much muck has accumulated in my attic – I thought I had disposed off everything disposable when I moved house a few months ago: obviously an erroneous inference, for I discovered enough discard for another truckload. Hmm, better now than the morrow, I mutter, and get about sorting pile after pile – used shells of ball pens, letters, office memos, class notes, condemned staplers, rusted paper clips – you name it – out of currency coins of small denominations, half a dozen key chains and twenty other keys. Keys to what? No idea why this ‘treasure’ is with me.

Off you fellows go, I saw sweeping a whole lot into the ‘out’ pile. On second thoughts, why should there be an ‘out’ pile – that’s because I had a ‘in’ heap too – now if the idea was to dispose, then what was the ‘in’ bit doing here? Makes sense – I nod, and in one more, ore vigorous massive clearance sweep – dump the whole lot to make one gigantic pyramid of garbage.

Just as I was gathering the whole lot into a huge cardboard carton to send it to oblivion, I saw a white plastic yellowed with age container. I eased it out gently from the mess, dusted it: what was this talcum powder container doing here?

I blew a puff of breath on its revolving lid, aligned the perforation – and shook the package – a cloud of pristine white talc jetted out onto my open palm. Suddenly, my head reels, I feel giddy and confused. The aromatic fragrance of the powder on my palm hits my olfactory nerves – and I stagger.

Heavens! This is baby talcum powder, I smell Johnsons. In one inspired breath, my mind travels time, bridges memory gaps, some dormant some self erased. This is powder I used to shower on my little daughter when she was a tiny babe. MY heart flutters as I remember vividly and clear, how she looked all flushed and ruddy after a dip and scrub in a tub of hot water. Wrapped in a white towel, like a papoose, deposited on the bed – where I waited: powdering was a chore I enjoyed. I shook the container till clouds of talc enveloped the entire place, face, back, chest, legs, fingers – I enjoyed this domestic role I was assigned – showering this infant with sweet smelling talc dust. For hours, this baby retained the scent. And she, she reveled in the exercise, gurgled and chuckled as I tickled her belly button - So innocent, this fragrance is!

This powder pack must be at least twenty-two years old, yet it has been with me all along. When or why, I shoved it among my memorabilia, I cannot recollect. The once tiny bundle isn’t with me here – she must be a lovely young lady somewhere. I hold the baby talcum container close and shut my eyes – I cannot shut my minds eye as it replays, again and again, the memories, smells and sounds of the days that were.