the rain

when it rains like it’s raining right now, some deep part of me stirs. the part of me that drinks in beauty. the part of me that longs to find magic. the part of me that is nourished by wishes and hopes and dreams.

the rain falls slowly and steadily and calmly, like an unending procession of shimmering beads against a misty backdrop of shadows. there’s no wind, no interference, nothing to send the droplets anywhere but straight down. rhythmically cascading from the heavens in sheets or waves or momentary bursts of chaotic showers. perfectly united and divided. perfectly wonderful.

for me, this rain conjures thoughts of candles and fireplaces and warm tea and bach. of slippers and books. of getting lost in memories and reveries. of a soothing embrace. of someone to love.

with the windows opened wide and the rich green of the neighbourhood's satiated treetops laid out before me as far as i can see, my mind lets me imagine that i’m standing inside a folksy cottage. that the cool air curling in through a crooked screen door might afford me the luxury of wearing a sweater on a july afternoon. that i can sit at a quaint kitchen table instead of my desk, gaze out at the rain, open a composition notebook, sharpen a fresh pencil and confess every secret in my heart.

with a gentle hand, mother nature carefully fine tunes the volume on her downpour. at times, its voice is nothing more than a whisper, punctuated by a car horn or a barking dog. other times, its unbroken, comforting din crescendos as the drops grow robust and hurtle to earth more passionately. cars flying past on the wet road slice through the sound like streaks of white clouds across a clear blue sky.

everything is quieter under the insulating veil of this rain. except my thoughts, which get louder.

there is no sound in my apartment, save for the click of the keyboard, the rain falling outside and the hushed tones of a world kept indoors on a saturday.

this rain is romantic.

and it makes my soul sigh.