Rain
I love your voice.
My city has been drenched with rain lately. It’s cold. It’s wet.
All around, strong winds carry the voices of the humans constantly bellowing, “I hate the rain,” “the rain’s so annoying to drive in,” “there go my plans,” “my goodness, when will it stop.” I let them pass along but for one, for the voice of the rain is loud with truths of its cyclical existence.
"My goodness, when will it stop, all this rain?" the woman said to me. “I don’t know, but I personally love the rain, I don’t mind it,” I replied to her. We conversed for a short time as she was shocked to meet someone who uttered the words “I love the rain.” The woman told me that I was the first person she’s met who loves the rain. She went along her way.
A young man, who later confirmed to me that he is in his early twenties, eavesdropped on my conversation with the woman. Once she walked away, he came up to me and said, “I love the rain, and my girlfriend would agree that she also loves the rain.” He added that “maybe people are not being honest with themselves.”
I think back to the woman. I wondered how it was for her to have lived life on this earth at least a half a century not ever having heard someone express love for the rain.
It is understandable that individuals often parrot current clichés to fill conversational gaps, but I would hope that there comes a point in life where one can simply say, ‘screw it, I too love rainy days,’ utterly unconcerned with the gasps that come along with straying away from the ‘bellowing.’ I really wanted that for her.
