What is it about the rain that makes a person show either their worst or best qualities? I don’t remember a time when I never loved the rain. Right now I’m watching each drop bounce off the black pavement outside a café. And it’s the most calming thing. How can this same rain cause so many bad drivers and cranky temperaments? I think the reason why I’ve always loved the rain is because no matter how cold it got outside, I’d always have that warm feeling inside my heart that’d keep my entire body, mind, and spirit at the right temperature.
The rain hasn’t changed; it’s still coming down at the same pace, in the same-sized droplets. What’s different about this season is that I’m not warm inside anymore. When I step outside it hurts. Because the coldness that enshrouds my exposed skin seeps deeper. It starts at the tip of my nose, trickles down my throat, lingers for a while on the left side of my chest, and finally, it drops down to my gut. And I feel this emptiness that the cold has left there. And it doesn’t go away. It just makes me feel like I’m waiting out in the cold even when I am snugly tucked in my bed at night. And no matter where I am or what I do or how many Moroccan Mint hot teas I drink, I can’t escape it because I’m frozen now. I’m just stuck.
The rain is a mysterious thing. I see it. I’m watching it. And I want to run through it and point my face to the sky and let it blanket over me… like I did when I was a kid. And no matter how much Mom yelled at me, I wouldn’t think twice about it. But I’m afraid to do it this time around. At this point in my life, I feel like if I indulged in this childlike wonder, if I ran through the parking lot right now and pointed my face to the sky, I’d drown.