Solace in Rain

Perhaps I lived a past life as a farmer. It would explain why I often find myself throwing glances at the sky, hoping to find dark clouds dwelling on the sharp blue canvas. My elation at seeing a blanket of grey allowing the sun to rest is unique. It is unlike my eagerness in anticipation of a reunion with an old friend, a celebration, or anything else that invokes excitement. I long for rain not because it grants me joy, as these things do, but because because it offers a form of solace.

Something about the aroma of wet earth, the flash of lightning, the clap of thunder, and drops of water makes me break into tears if I have been melancholic that day, and break into a smile if I have been content. It gives me the courage to talk to a friend who has angered me, and the strength to apologise to a friend whom I have wronged. I do not understand the hand played by rain in drawing out a tangle of emotions so well hidden before it arrived, but the fact remains. When the heavens pour, so do I.