Once The Rain Stops.

Rainy days are always ingrained in my head. They were the days I enjoyed the most. I liked the feeling of raindrops falling on my face, like freckles were being painted on. I always found it funny how cold by fingertips and toes would get, when normally my own body heat would roast me alive. I always got excited about finally getting to wear my favorite raincoat that is always buried deep in my closet. I enjoyed the way the Earth’s scent would seep into my clothes and linger for days. I loved the way the world always went silent, while the sky cried. Rainy days always made me happy because I finally had someone to cry with. It’s never apologetic about it isn’t it? Whatever outcomes lie afterwards. It doesn’t care if its storm wreaks havoc or if it creates a bountiful spring; it cries simply because it feels to do so. I always admired the Rain for that. Well, the Rain was all I had to admire for that.

I was never really good at crying. I mean- I can cry, just not when I should be or without feeling worse by the end of it. I guess that’s what happens when you’re forced to suppress your emotions at an early age. My mother made sure she never tolerated anything other than blind obedience from me. And my father made it obvious it was exhaustingly inconvenient for him if I was anything but happy. Given those circumstances, my range of emotions I was allowed to express was very limited. That’s why I loved the Rain. I loved the way it would carry on for hours through the night while I sobbed in my pillow, peacefully knowing its thunder would wake my parents long before my tears would. I loved the way it would perform for me, with its delicately fierce lightning and its rumbling thunder echoing for miles. It was like watching an orchestra conducted by Zeus himself. I loved the way it would do its best to distract me from the chaotic thoughts swirling in my brain. You don’t meet many people like that do you? Ones that can cry when they need to, never feeling guilty or apologetic for it; and to let another cry without shaming them for it, all while showing sympathy.

I know I have a long list of bad habits to break but suppressing my emotions will always be at the top. The Rain always liked to remind me of what I longed for. I crave so badly to be able to unapologetically rage and to delicately sob. I want to be able to comfort others while being able to comfort myself. I want to stop feeling like I need to hide my tears, so I don’t inconvenience others. I want someone to stand in front of me and thank me for allowing them to be in the presence of my raw state as my emotions pour out of my mind and soul, as I have done for the Rain.

The first Rain of the season came not too long ago. Its gentle knocking woke me up in the middle of the night. I was so happy, silent tears streamed down my face. It felt as if I was saying hello to an old friend. As I begin to drift back to sleep, I start to realize the Rain would be proud of how much I have learned from it. I have slowly but surely embedded each of its lessons into my days. I have not yet reached who I want to become, but it does not mean I have not come far from who I was. I have enjoyed watching myself relearn to cry, laugh, rage, hope and be in awe of life, whatever shape it takes. However, as much as I would like, I cannot forget that it cannot rain forever. For once the rain stops, the sun will come out.