The Rain

Nothing makes me happier than a rainy day.

A drizzle with sunlight is best.
In its gracious presence, I grow an infinite affinity.
Not blazing, nor shivering.
If I’m lucky,
a rainbow bridge would climb out from the rim of the sky,
inviting me to walk over to the other end
into a sheer strange realm.
A land so mysterious that no one has been.

It doesn’t rain enough in California.
When it does, I have strong urges to rush out and soak myself standing in the rain – although I always manage to hold back.

I want to know what does rain taste like.
So I tilt my head up, catching raindrops on their way landing on the ground.
I let them fall into my mouth, and onto the tip of my tongue.
I could feel the coolness
lingering in between my teeth.

I turn to the love of my life.
And in the rain,
we kiss.

Swimming in the drizzly rain is a whole other story.
I am a fish,
swimming smoothly and liberally in the ocean azure.
While the rain is just part of my life in nature.
I feel so alive.

I want to dance with the rain,
in the rain,
letting the raindrops patter on my bare skin,
freely yet gently.
While I relish her dreamy caress, I want the rain to nurture me,
the way it nurtures Mother Earth.

Freshness is the complexion of the rain.

She comes briskly down and leaves everything refreshing and alive.

Words are not enough
to express my happiness breathing in the fresh air after the rain.
I breathe deeply,
through my nostrils, into my lungs.
And I wish all my other senses were able to breathe.
I feel I’m integrated into the air – I don’t want to stop breathing.
I can’t.

The smell of soil, dirt, mud, wood, trees, grass, flowers,
woven together with water.
That’s the smell
of rain.

I’d put on my sweater and rain boots,
then take a wild walk
through the forest.
Looking at little raindrops or dewdrops
resting on the leaves – quite like them sweating.
I’d hike up to Twin Peaks,
and feel the wind curling up on me.
If I had a dog,
I would take him too.
Then I’d wish it would rain cats and dogs.

If it does.
I would take them all home.

I’d go home and make myself a cup of hot coffee.
I’d plunge into pages of my favorite books,
while listening to the beat of the rain.
Sipping my dark, aromatic coffee from time to time.
If I tired of reading, I’d make myself cozy and comfy,
and then enjoy a few good romantic movies.
I’d burst into giggles and smile at my laptop screen like nobody’s business
or laugh so hard until my stomach hurts.
I’d weep or cry out loud with the protagonists if it’s a tragic story.
With the rain relentlessly hammering on my window,
reminding me that she’s still there,
keeping me company.

Different seasons give the rain a different character.
I adore all,
but summer rain is the most invigorating.
It’s crisp and soothing,
like a breath of fresh air,
giving the intense summer heat a break.
San Francisco has the least characteristic summer that I know of,
yet still, it’s great if the rain visits.
I spent 18 years of my life in China in a very seasonal hometown.
Rain definitely made my hot summer days more colorful and peaceful.

All the peacefulness and liveliness suddenly evaporates into the air
when you walk down the street
and that one car passing you by
splashes dirty water all over your
beautiful
new
outfit.

Maybe part of me doesn’t like rainy days after all.
They can be a little depressing.
If the rain doesn’t stop,
it gives you a gloomy feeling
quite like the end of the world.
It feels as though the sky is crying hysterically.
Winter rain, in particular.
When it’s combined with pieces of snowflakes,
chilly and mucky.

I have learned to enjoy the unchangeable,
however.
Instead of waiting
for the storm to pass,
I learned
to dance
in the
rain.

 “The rain came in waves,
splattering across the pavement.
I spun around, my face turned to the dark sky.
The water streamed through my hair, down my neck, soaking my clothes.
The chilly wind cut through me like a knife,
but I couldn’t care.
I was gleeful, overjoyed.”  – Phoenix