Dear rain,
I'm just writing to say thank you for all the moments you've made me feel alive. Because I'll forget the taste of candyfloss and the words to my favourite song, but I'll never forget how it feels to fall asleep to the soundtrack of pitter patter on my roof.
When I was little, in that cosy bungalow, it was routine to listen to the rain. I would sit, shrouded in dad's huge cracked office chair with a Corner yoghurt from the fridge, and mix the sharp taste with the sweet sound of drumming.
And that day after exams, when the heatwave ended and the clouds fell to earth. I stood outside, barefoot in the grass with mud between my toes, and let icy droplets run down my forehead and fingers.
You weren't just there in happy times. Another sunny week, delirious happiness and ice cream. Until I stepped out into the breeze and heard the words, 'your grandad has just died'. The first drop of rain fell on my cheek before my mind could even catch up - it was like you knew, and you answered me before I asked.
But you've brought so much beauty, it's hard to hate you for that. There is a window in my hallway, with a streetlamp outside. I'll never forget the night it poured for hours, and as I stepped past that window the light hit at such a perfect angle; your droplets lit up like thousands of tiny stars on the glass, you were diamonds within reach, and I saw the Universe. I was transfixed. Years later, that moment is so vivid in my mind.
So, rain, I guess I just wanted you to know. People beg for summer sun and write you off as a miserable day, but you are so much more. Because I'll forget my words, and perhaps even myself, but I'll never forget how it felt to write you this letter while watching you fall from the sky.
Yours sincerely,
the girl who loves to live
I'm just writing to say thank you for all the moments you've made me feel alive. Because I'll forget the taste of candyfloss and the words to my favourite song, but I'll never forget how it feels to fall asleep to the soundtrack of pitter patter on my roof.
When I was little, in that cosy bungalow, it was routine to listen to the rain. I would sit, shrouded in dad's huge cracked office chair with a Corner yoghurt from the fridge, and mix the sharp taste with the sweet sound of drumming.
And that day after exams, when the heatwave ended and the clouds fell to earth. I stood outside, barefoot in the grass with mud between my toes, and let icy droplets run down my forehead and fingers.
You weren't just there in happy times. Another sunny week, delirious happiness and ice cream. Until I stepped out into the breeze and heard the words, 'your grandad has just died'. The first drop of rain fell on my cheek before my mind could even catch up - it was like you knew, and you answered me before I asked.
But you've brought so much beauty, it's hard to hate you for that. There is a window in my hallway, with a streetlamp outside. I'll never forget the night it poured for hours, and as I stepped past that window the light hit at such a perfect angle; your droplets lit up like thousands of tiny stars on the glass, you were diamonds within reach, and I saw the Universe. I was transfixed. Years later, that moment is so vivid in my mind.
So, rain, I guess I just wanted you to know. People beg for summer sun and write you off as a miserable day, but you are so much more. Because I'll forget my words, and perhaps even myself, but I'll never forget how it felt to write you this letter while watching you fall from the sky.
Yours sincerely,
the girl who loves to live
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