Before I see a sukkah or hold an etrog, I know Sukkot has arrived because of its smell. Sukkot is often an underrated holiday. We spend so much time talking about the miracles of Hanukkah, the story of Passover, or the reflection and judgment of Yom Kippur that Sukkot can sometimes get overlooked. But for me, Sukkot is one of the most meaningful holidays on the Jewish calendar, and it all starts with its familiar scent. Growing up in Houston, Sukkot always marked a change in the air. After months of long, humid days, the weather would finally begin to shift. Stepping outside and feeling that first hint of fall always signaled that something special was approaching. Combined with the smell of the etrog, those scents instantly connect me to some of my favorite memories and remind me where I come from.

Sukkot is the season of happiness. For me, that joy comes from the memories these familiar scents bring back. They transport me to afternoons spent building the sukkah in my backyard with my father. Once it was finished, my family would decorate it, share meals together, tell stories, and spend time in what we affectionately called our "backyard house." Those moments were simple, but they were filled with laughter and connection. More than anything, they gave me a deep sense of family and community.

The sukkah itself reminds us of the temporary homes our ancestors lived in while wandering through the desert after leaving Egypt. While those structures were never meant to be permanent, they still provided comfort, protection, and a feeling of home. In many ways, we are all still wandering today. We spend our lives searching for where we belong, discovering who we are, and finding the communities that help shape us.

For some people, that sense of belonging comes through sports, music, clubs, or organizations like BBYO. For others, it may come from family traditions or special memories. Whatever form it takes, I believe there is something sacred about paying attention to the moments, places, and even the scents that bring us back to ourselves. They remind us of who we are and where we feel most connected.

Growing up, I was at synagogue a lot. Whether it was Shabbat, High Holidays, or religious school, Sukkot was different. It was one of the only chances I didn’t have to dress up to feel G-d’s  presence. Through making those decorations, building with my father, and laughing with my mother, I felt like G-d was with us through the Schach (the roof). 

As I've gotten older, life has become busier. Plans get made, priorities change, and spending time outside doesn't always feel as exciting as it once did. Yet every year, when those familiar scents return, so do the memories. The smell of the etrog, the changing air, and the sukkah itself remind me of the people, traditions, and experiences that helped shape who I am.

For me, Sukkot is more than the beginning of fall, the start of a new Torah cycle, or even the celebration of a holiday. It is a reminder that home is not always a place. Sometimes it is a memory, a community, or a feeling. And sometimes, it is as simple as a familiar scent that brings you back to what matters most.

As we celebrate Sukkot, I encourage you to think about what brings you back to your own sense of home, joy, and connection.

Shabbat Shalom and Chag Sukkot Sameach,
Ezra Scott, Lonestar