Far too many people hate the rain, I feel. They hate it because it ruins their day. They hate it because it ruins their hair. They hate it because they just washed their car. For others, it’s an emotional thing. The cloud cover, along with the fall in temperature, creates an ominous mood many would rather do without. But for me, the rain was a hero. For me, it was my saving grace — my salvation.
I’m not a farm boy, who makes a living from the fruits of the fields. Nor, am I, an umbrella salesman. I’m just an ordinary boy who love to write in his free time. A boy who loves to fill the air with the melodic tunes gifted to mankind through a gift bestowed upon him — the guitar. In fact, it would make more sense for me to hate the rain, as I commute to and from work mostly on foot, and via public transportation. But the rain holds a special place in my heart, rivaled in rank only by my brother, and those I hold dear.
I was not a fit boy growing up. I’m not a fit man even to this day. I suffer from allergies, and asthma, both of which impede my ability to breathe under high pressure physical activities. Moreover, I used to be rather rotund in my figure in my childhood. I was not fast; I was not athletic; I was neither keen nor cunning. I had no merits on the war zone that was the recess playground.
Ask kids what their favorite subject is, and they would respond either gym, or recess. Most of them. I was one of the exceptions. My favorite subject was an actual subject because studying caused me a lot less pain than having to go out to the playground, where I knew no one would interact with me. But every once in a while, that sweet elixir of the gods would shower down upon the earth. And every time, all the children would be forbidden from taking to the playground. They would be forced to play inside.
I was able, whenever it rained, to play with the sedentary toys I loved to play with. Things that did not make me uncomfortable, or made me a target for the other kids. I was able to be myself. And it was indoors the others saw value in who I was.
That’s when my love affair with rain started. Over time, the relationship grew to something more substantial. It was a driving force in my life. It helped me reflect on myself whenever I needed respite, providing me with ambient background noise to help me collect my thoughts amidst all the chaos in my life. It helped me feel a sense of cleansing when I was at my worst, pulling me from the depths of my misery, and the troughs of my mediocrity. It told me that I was better than this. It told me that it would provide me with a clean slate to start anew.
It never left my side. It changed its role in my life, as I began to change in my personal identity.
What is rain to me today? Rain to me, today, is what keeps me from feeling too lonely. It gently reminds me of the things I’ve been through, both the good and the bad. It reminds me that wherever I may be, it’ll always be there for me to clean it all up, whenever I need it. It’s a reminder of everyone and everything that helps me everyday, but I take for granted, and have forgotten about in the business of life.
It’s a reminder that I’m not perfect, but that’s okay.