I smell rain. It is a beautiful smell of rain drops hitting the hot, dry ground. The scent produced from the mixture of rain and dust is simply amazing! I am transported from my office in the basement, which has one window that is never opened to a whole different continent. I am back home in Zambia, Ndola to be specific. I remember being happy.
I am lying in bed with the then boyfriend, terrified of the thunder and lightning going on outside and screaming every few minutes (yes, it frightens me that much despite my age *ducks*). He doesn’t laugh at my childishness, instead he finds it cute. Also, this gives him the opportunity to pull me closer to him as he “protects” me. I do not object.
My fear of thunder and lightning is real. So I enjoy the embrace and scream into his arms. A shiver runs through me every time it blasts outside. And every time, he holds me closer, rubbing my back and whispering it will be alright and he is there to protect to me. I cannot control the terror that courses through me but I know I am safe in his arms. And for this I am grateful.
Mahn, where the heck did this particular scent come from!? It’s not even raining outside and I am in the darn basement. No windows either. Feeling nostalgic all of a sudden. This particular memory is from five years ago. Took me by surprise. Arrrgggghhhhh time to shake it off and get back to work.