Petrichor

The gloomy weather unfolds outside (Of course, sun never reaches the window but the rain always does). There is a slight drizzle and I smell the rain. 

I am back to when I first came to stay in this dingy room I've spent so much time in & learned to call home. I remember dragging my feet, unwanting to part with my (old) bed-- the move was a product of circumstance, a necessary change. I remember being in a room empty save for a mattress on the floor. I remember staring at the blank walls.

I am still here. Each foot, each inch now etched with experiences-- the space has already filled up with two years of rest, readings, and feelings. 

I sit inside the room with the window the sun never reaches but the rain always does. The walls are not blank anymore.

It may be time again for a necessary change.