What is it about rain that makes you plunge into introspection?
I remember a time when the rain was only associated with one emotion. Totally grin-faced glee.
Now it’s complicated. You can’t just go out and get yourself drenched just because you feel like it. Well you can, but not without spending a moment or an hour worrying about your makeup or your hair or whether the security guards will stare at you or whether the driver of a passing van will hoot at you or whether you’ll catch a horrid flu and miss work for a day. Don’t you wish you were young again just for the thrill of getting soaked in July’s first shower?
Now it’s depressing. You don’t see the clean, cool water or hear the pitter patter. You see the grey sky with the dark clouds. You see yourself in your apartment alone, though not necessarily lonely. You think, you contemplate, you sulk. It’s a grim, solitary world, you say.
You reach your arms out of the bars of the window. You don’t want to get wet, instead you reminisce about the times that you did. Like the time you cycled all around some little island in the pouring rain, throwing caution to the wind, white crepe shirt notwithstanding, only to hurtle downhill and finally crash on some stones. It was still fun anyway.
It isn’t supposed to be depressing. It isn’t supposed to make you fret over being late or being wet for work. It isn’t supposed to make you worry about your laundry. It is rain for God’s sake. And it is time for some totally grin-faced glee. So you can’t have a snowy Christmas, have a rainy one instead. Go forth and get wet.
I’ll tell you what prompted this.. something of a long-lost memory, only more tangible, something mother-of-pearl, something sparkly, something tiny. You know what they say about butterflies and chaos…