Rain ☔
ㅤ
Get Luna’s stories in your inbox
Join Medium for free to get updates from this writer.
ㅤ
I used to love rain. When I was a skinny little girl with skin full of bruises from playing in the woods, my mother never stopped me from dancing in the rain or jumping in puddles whenever I wanted. So I learned to embrace the rain rather than hold a grudge against it.
ㅤ
As an adult, rain drops touching my skin through a slightly opened window, while I ignored the silently expressed anger on the face of the person seated behind me in a fully packed bus; or the heavy rain pounding against my old, ridiculous umbrella, as if trying to tear it apart, while I walked along the streets, trying to protect myself from people running for shelter with their clothes soaked through — these were different moods of rain that I experienced from different perspectives, but never with annoyance, for some unknown reason.
ㅤ
Then I tried to hate rain.
ㅤ
When the little puddles on potholed roads filled with rainwater mixed with murky water spilling from drains, and the smell of soaked bird droppings filled my nose, along with the smell of wet dust on freshly tarred roads that had just been baked under the sun before the rain, it didn’t excite me the way it used to.
ㅤ
But at the bottom of my heart, there’s always a mighty little corner for rain.
ㅤ
It isn’t filled with coffee in a fancy mug on a side table beside a cozy sofa, wrapped in a comfy blanket, reading the newest edition of a romance novel while watching raindrops drool down a closed window.
ㅤ
There was always that crazy little thin kid who danced in the rain, screaming whatever song she could remember, and ran around the house until her sister finally caught her.
ㅤ
