Longing for the scent of petrichor

 

Three years ago I posted a collage on Facebook of garden flowers and wrote about the smell of petrichor in the air after the rain.

Three years ago my dad died, but that happened after my post so that will be tomorrow’s Facebook memory.

Do I need Facebook to remind me?

My mum has the date marked on her calendar in the kitchen – how can any of us forget?

But I’d prefer the day to pass without much thought, like my dad, I’m not that sentimental.

And this has been a strange week, this week I tested positive for Covid for the very first time.

When dad died it was rife, there were restrictions on funerals, so many new rules we had to live by.

Now there are no rules, I don’t have to isolate, I didn’t need to test, I can carry on regardless.

But I don’t.

And maybe part of it is actually grief, the loss of my dad, the loss of a world we once knew and the deeper grief I carry everywhere that dates back almost thirteen years.

Today I feel heavy and aching and broken

But this will pass

The flowers will bloom

The rain will come

And I will smell the petrichor once more.