Photo by Aline Nadai from Pexels
There was a night weeks ago that the rain came unexpectedly. It came after a warm morning and afternoon. It did not come with just pitter-patter but a dash that overflowed. There was a puddle in our room after.
This is not the story for today. The story is about how I feel about the rain. Some people are happy when it rains. Not in my case.
There was an instance I wrote about the rain, being overwhelmed with utter loneliness.
As I hasten against the pitter-patter of the raindrops on my way home one evening, my mind also races against many concerns. I have to do this, I have to finish that, I have to prepare this, I have to complete that, etc.
The list goes on and on. The list does not seem to end. Maybe that is why I get lonesome when it rains. The pitter-patter of raindrops reminds me of things that still have to be finished or completed. They remind me of work to be done. They remind me of my limitations, my lack, or my incapability.
The pitter-patter also reminds me of the not-so-good. The raindrops make me think of the worst happenings, fear, want, loneliness, rejection, and neglect.
Funny, they also remind me of some people, those that wounded my heart and soul, those that made the heartbreak, and those that had stung then left unforgettable scars.
Pitter-patter, pitter-patter, falling softly…
Warmstone 