Thoughts

Today it rained.

Today it rained and I walked out side and smelt the air, and the scent of the warm, wet wind took my mind back to a hundred moments unconnected except by that scent. I think I heard somewhere that the scent of rain these days is the result of pollution. And in my head I thought of the following scene:

Hero looked up at the rain, and let the drops fall softly on his hair. It wasn't a heavy rain, just a light drizzle. His soldiers moaned and hurried off to their tents hoping to avoid getting wet. Hero just let his senses wander, he marveled yet again at the smell of rain here. So unlike home, the rain here smelled pure and clean, not like the ozone filled scent of rain from his past. Or was it his future? Trapped in the past before combustion engines became the mainstay of society. Trapped fighting a war for an army history had taught him he would lose.

Hero sighed and shifted his cloak to cover his sword belt and flipped the hood up, he didn't look forward to rusted armor. But... how he wished he could be home where the rain was tainted and home was 400 miles and two hours away. He had been a no one there, and yet he longed for those days when all he had to worry about was if his drinking would make Wife angry.

"Wife." He said softly, letting her name escape--misting the air in front of his face. The words as visible and untouchable as her face was in his memory.

Horns called out shrill and morose in the falling darkness. Hero clung to the moment for as long as he could, one hand lifted to touch the smoke billowing out of his mouth into the chilled air, reaching out to touch Her. Just as quickly as the rain fell, he was brought back to the here and now, the Normands were coming and the men of England needed their commander. Hero nodded Baren, who he realized had been relating the most recent troop positions.

Hero looked up one last time, longingly, at the sky, and remembered the scent of rain.