The Rain

I was in the park just a few blocks from my house when it started. I felt a few drops of water fall on my face and bare arms, and started to expect a little drizzle of rain. A few seconds later,however, it felt as though someone had turned on a shower. The rain came pouring down so fast and so suddenly that I barely had time to process what was happening before it was too late. My yellow floral sundress was completely soaked. All around me, people started to rush to find cover, and the lucky ones had umbrellas with them. Or well, lucky in their eyes.

I love the rain, which is why I made no attempts to go back home. The rain is a whimsical and imaginative force that paints vivid pictures with its fluid and rhythmic voice. It tells tales of renewal, growth, and cleansing, with each droplet a page in its storybook. Its gentle lullaby soothes the earth, inviting all to listen to its tales of old and new. The flowers seemed brighter, all their colours, red, yellow, purple and even white seemed to become more prominent with the rain falling upon them. The grass became greener, like it was being given new life.

The rain seemed to have cleaned everything up, brightened the world. The park bench across from me was initially a deep red colour. Now, the rain was clearing up all the dust and dirtiness that had settled on it, revealing a shiny blood coloured bench. The sound of the harsh rain against the bench was so soothing. It was a strong pitter-patter sound, like the sound of falling gold coins hitting the ground all at once. Somehow, at the same time, It sounded like the flow of a heavy stream.

Then the rain got louder, and faster. I could feel it hit the top of my head and drench my brunette hair. The heaviness and loudness of the rain kept fluctuating, but never decreasing to anything less than a proper shower.

The feeling of the cold rain against my skin washed away all my problems, all my worries. The park was completely void of people now. Maybe that helped bring out everything else so much better. Just nature and I. It was like I was being spoken to. The petrichor was so strong, I could smell it from where I was standing. The mixture of the rain with the soil delivered a fresh, almost sweet smell to my nose. The smell of the grass reminded me of the colour green, rather than a distinct smell of any kind. It reminded me of a walk in a garden in spring time, when everything smells rather like grass.

A drop of water went into my mouth, it tasted almost, salty. This took me back ten years, when I was 10. I was in a completely different park on the other side of the world. I was sitting on the ground, colouring in my princess book. Then the rain fell, the same way it fell today, ten years later. The rain fell gracefully that day, giving me time to soak it all up, and slowly drenched me as I was dancing in it, completely forgetting to protect my colouring book. Even then, people immediately started running to find shelter.

I realised in that moment how much I loved the rain. The rain would stay with me forever. The perfectly peaceful chaos. I remembered how my pink skirt became darker and darker as it absorbed more water, the same happened with my yellow dress today. It had been quite the day, the rain lasted for about an hour, and I stood under it the whole time, my little feet splashing in the puddles and the wet soil. I was bare-feet. That's the best way to enjoy the rain.

The rain is a master of symbolism, weaving in themes of sorrow and joy, love and loss. It speaks of the power of nature, how it can wash away the past and bring new life to the land. It sings of the eternal cycle of life and death, how everything is constantly changing, always in motion. Thinking about that, I took my boots off and, with a grateful sigh, started jumping about on the wet ground, the water from the puddles splashing up my leg.