Petrichor

Petrichor. The smell lingered on the stalks of high grass that left my clothing damp as I walked. I inhaled deeply-a smile of content spread across my face. The sky had a slight lilac tinge of the coming dawn and the stars still sparkled softly in the sky. Out in front of me a field of tall grass bent slightly as the wind brushed by them, sending them into a graceful dance. I looked out further into the distance and saw the rolling hills of the country, varying in different hues of green, brown, and yellow- a splotch of color here and there where the wildflowers were clustered together.

The sight was breathtaking. Every single time I witnessed it I felt myself relax and all my worries just float away as if they were  nonexistent. It felt like my grandfather was there standing next to me, holding my hand, breathing the air I was breathing. A feeling of warmth consumed me as I closed my eyes and inhaled. It was like I was being held in a loving embrace by the one who had long since passed and introduced me to the calm serenity of the surrounding wilderness. When I was here, watching the sun rise and the stars disappear as the lilac changed to a deeper purple then to red, to orange, seeing the mist in the air sparkle, I was with him; it calmed me. It made me feel at peace, content: I need not worry. It became that simple.

I ventured further out into the grass and came to a stop in the middle of the field where there was a small patch of land where large cluster of wild flowers grew. I sat down, laid back, and let myself feel the soft petals caress my bare skin, the coolness spreading goosebumps in waves, like a pebble dropped into a still pool. The sky was bright with the sun that had now risen enough to cause the stalks of grass to lay shadows over me. I closed my eyes and smiled, breathing in their fragrant scent. This is what he smelled like: crushed flowers and sodden earth I was always completely at ease and comfortable around him. He wouldn’t let me worry. He told me it was useless He would take me here right before dawn and sit down with me and let me talk to him, spill  my heart out and leave it here, in the cool dirt.

A single tear slid down my face and into the flowers as I thought of my grandfather. I missed him dearly, I missed him bringing me here and just listening. So I spoke, my eyes still closed, using the smell and embrace of the cool flowers beneath me to envision him there with me.

“I’m scared.” I whispered. I am terrified of growing up, terrified of everything that was about to change. Another tear followed the first, “And I miss you…I never got to say goodbye…” The last time he had brought me here had been over a year ago and I hadn’t seen him in four months when I got the news he had passed.

As if in an answer a breeze caused the stalks tilt and bend. One bent low enough to brush my cheek, right where the trail of the tear was still glistening. I smiled my eyes still closed. He was here. He was with me. This place had been his, and now it was mine.

I stood up slowly and turned to look towards the sun, shielding my eyes. The worry that I had come with was now gone; the field has swept it away from me with the breeze. As I rose to go back, I felt, for the first time in months, a true solace: a true peace.