Write down the first words that comes to mind when we say . . . home. . . soil. . . rain. Use those words in the title of your post.
I love the smell of damp earth when it rains. It reminds me of a rainy afternoon I spent in an apartment we used to stay in in India. I vaguely remember a stone balcony leading off from my parents’ bedroom. It was a long balcony with potted plants, overlooking a park. It was a rainy afternoon so the ground was slippery with raindrops. It might have been monsoon, because the rain was pouring down in sheets. The sound of pattering raindrops filled my ears as I stood on the balcony, leaning against the edge, one arm reaching out to catch the raindrops. Some of the icy drops fell on my hand, drenching it within a few moments. My lungs filled with the sweet fragrance of damp soil and I remember thinking how much I liked it.
That smell takes me back home. Even when I’m walking along streets miles away from my home country, even though we have a different apartment there now, even though that rainy afternoon was years ago and I barely remember it, the scent reminds me of that day once in a while, reminds me that I can still find a little piece of my home country from time to time, even if I am physically far away from it.
P.S. I know I’m a day late with this! But this has been my situation for the last few days…