Petrichor
June 28, 2015
This. This was the kind of weather you were waiting for. The light pitter-patter of the rain on the window. Soft. Reassuring; unlike so many other things in life. You have the window just a tad bit open, just enough for you to smell the petrichor emanating from the modest garden right outside your window, but not enough for any of the raindrops to pay a visit inside.
The record player in the corner of the room is playing lazy tunes. Soothing. While the flame from the candle sways and dances. Flowing freely and in sync with the nature of the tune. You close your eyes. Inhale. Geraniums. Roses. Flooding your nostrils.
Immediately, you smile. Behind your closed eyelids, you see that face that you adore so dearly. The smile that makes you swell with joy every time you see it. The softness of the hand. You remember when those hands brought you your first flowers. Introduced you to the beauty that each flower beheld. Geraniums. True friendship. For it is true, theirs is the truest friendship you can ever hope to have and one that you can count on for eternity.
The pattering still goes on. Somehow, in that cold weather, you feel so warm. Warm with all these thoughts and that face in your mind. Warm as though you could feel their hug. Their reassuring arms wrapped around you, while they calmly whisper in your ear. I’m here for you always. Always.
You wish for anything right then, with the smell of geraniums and roses filling the room, you wish for anything. For that face to be right by your side. Those hazel eyes staring right into yours. That smile, smiling right back at you.
Mother. You whisper. Mother. I wish you were here.
You smile, with the smell of geraniums and roses filling the room. You smile. As you feel a tear escape from behind closed eyelids. You smile. As the candle kept swaying and dancing to the lazy tune. As the petrichor slowly begins to fade away, overcome by the smell of geraniums. And roses. This was the kind of weather you were waiting for. This.
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