Remember a couple weeks ago, I wrote about the whippoorwill (here)? (This time, no hyphens.) When I went to the Catskills that weekend, I listened but didn't hear it. I think, I hope it's because they stay deep in the woods, and the sound of the waterfall is very loud next to the house. But that night I was haunted by the sound, I heard it in my head, and realized it was a sound of my childhood, when we lived in the Virginia woods, summer nights, the windows open, falling asleep to the song of the whippoorwill.
I think of smells as having that visceral, deja-vu power, but not sounds. In this case though, the sound of the whippoorwill inhabited my five year old self, so deeply that now the sound takes me back to that time, deeper than a memory.