I used to describe the scent of my second husband as "soft" or "fragrant," as silly and cliché as that sounds. His personal scent had nothing to do with colognes or body wash, though he used both. After a hard workout, he smelled both better and worse at the same time, if that makes any sense.

Even his freshly laundered clothes retained something of his essence and could move me deeply if I smelled them while doing household chores.

I have never smelled anything or anyone like that. His subtle personal aroma was as unique as it was mysterious.

Sometimes in a quiet moment, if I'm thinking of him and smiling, a hint of that scent comes back to me and transports me briefly to the happy years we spent together.