The memory in a lime...

Oy. Friday I suddenly had this urge to bake (it happens from time to time sort of like needing to migrate south for the winter...) and boy howdy did I. Having bought a set of springform pans two years ago thinking about taking up tarte making, yesterday I dug them out of my hardware storage and decided to break in the 9 incher by baking a cheesecake. Dude. I had no idea that my favorite cheesecakes require 2 lbs. of cream cheese alone to get started! My jeans instantly felt tighter just by looking at that amount of creamy goodness sitting on my counter.
Committed to baking, I ignored my tight pants and pressed onward. I decided I wanted a tropical flavor in my cheesecake, so I added the zest and juice of two limes and as I was suddenly enveloped in the smell of citrus I had a moment where I was blinking back some happy tears. No, I didn't squirt lime into my eyes. It's just funny that smells can be linked to memories. I hadn't realized until just that moment that I associate the smell of fresh limes with my mother. My mom once baked a lime meringue pie, (once and only once), but since that was the first time I had even seen/smelled a lime (I think I must have been two or three) the scene really impressed upon my psyche. Twenty years later, as I'm zesting a lime in my own kitchen, I felt this rush of warmth and security like my mom had just reached through time and space to hug me. Who'd have thought that such a great thing could be brought forth from the humble lime.
As for my cheesecake, I had a huge slice of the tastiest lime and cream cheese pastry to ever touch my lips and now I'm going to take the rest to work to force my co-workers to partake. Happy Days, folks!