petrichor

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petrichor

You hate the smell of rain, but I think you’d like this moment. The air is the exact temperature of my skin, and smells fresh, not like the usual odor of worms you always complain about. The perky blades of grass are flushed green, having long forgotten the feeling of snow. The trees welcome spring with all their flags flying, filling the sky with buds and blossoms.

I don’t always think about you, but when I do, it’s because I no longer need you. That hasn’t stopped being strange. Twenty years and I wonder what happened to the little girl who clung to your skirt when meeting strangers. I’m trying to learn how loving someone and needing someone can be different things.

You hate the city, but I think you’d like this moment. Squared in on all sides by rosy brick buildings, the distant whisk of passing cars sounds less like traffic and more like waves greeting the shore. There are no sirens or screams or anything except the wind playing with the blooming trees.

I don’t always think about you, but when I do, it’s because you are present in my smallest moments. The hot dogs have no ketchup here, just like you would eat them. The trees bloom pink. The rain is fresh. I’m learning to pick out the littlest things and cling to them on the darkest days, just like you taught me.

You hate so many things, but I think you’d like these moments. You should come see for yourself. We can walk to the water, and I’ll point across the blue expanse to the land where you taught me how to live life. Now on the other side, I’m still learning how to love it.

I’ll tell you how I’m learning to love the things I don’t like, too.

I don’t always think about you, but when I do, it’s because I need you, and I don’t know how not to.

I’m still trying to learn how loving someone and needing someone are not dangerous things.
I’m still trying to learn how loving someone and needing someone are different things. and similar things. and beautiful things.

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