You're a traveler. You've always been a traveler. While Earth is your home, you haven't really been back for a long time. From a young age, when you cast your toddler eyes up to the stars, you have wanted to go out there into the big black . . . to search and learn and discover. You have seen many of the planets of the solar system, set foot on them, or floated in their gaseous atmospheres, whether in a reinforced ship, or a pressurized suit. You have cast your step upon many an asteroid, not to mention the many other rocks in space you've set foot on. You've paid a visit to moons aplenty. You've been out into the far reaches of cold, cold space, and you've gotten as close to the sun as is possible in the most heat-resistant ship without dying. But now, you want something simple. And you've been given that opportunity. You can't get back to your Earth, but this is close enough you think . . . you hope. You step through the door and out onto a mushy ground that squelches underfoot. You already know everything is just right. You can hear the rain falling in a heavy downpour. You can feel the drops pittering and pattering around you, smacking on your head and shoulders. Your hands become wet and cold with the water. It feels glorious. And there is the smell. The fresh, watery scent . . . a cleansing scent, if ever there was one. Out of all the places you've been in the solar system, you've never been able to enjoy the rain. Again. Not like you are now. #thoughtfulthursday
