Scents of Time By Calissa Treat   I On Tuesdays I wear Red. The thick scent of rum vanilla and oak wood swims around in a ruby, cubical bottle that has a plastic, golden bow wrapped around it with the word RED written across in black. I spritz it in my long, blonde hair and on my wrists. I spritz it across my mother, who is reclining in the gray hospital chair. I am careful about where I spray it, making sure not to let it float onto her IV. “Oh my, that is by far my favorite perfume,” my mom says, closing her eyes and inhaling deeply. “It takes away the burning smell of the chemo. Sometimes I swear it will eat me…