It is no secret that I love rain.
I think I've made it comfortably known to just about anyone who has come my way. We don't even need to have met. As long as you're a business acquaintance (whom we may have shook hands one time at a networking meeting), a Facebook acquaintance (whom the algorithms invited and we accepted), or someone whom social media thinks I should know, you're going to know just how much I love rain.
It is a love that goes beyond breathing in nice, cool air tinted with the scent of rain. It is a love that goes beyond refreshing and revitalising the dry, parched land.
Instead it is a love that leads me all the way back to my childhood where my home in the northeast meant that it rained buckets, sheets, cats, and dogs during the months of November, December and January.
I think of rain the same way I think of Christmas. I think of rain the same way I think of Christmas shopping and wrapping Christmas presents. I think of rain in the way I'd reach out my hand through the open window and let the heavy drops fall on my palm. And I think of rain the same way I think of a steaming bowl of instant noodles cooked just the way I like it with cuttlefish balls, egg and prawn balls.
This is not a love I've kept hidden from family, friends, and loved ones either.
They know me, and my affinity with rain, all too well.
They know I'm the girl who loves overcast, cool and grey skies.
They know I'm the girl who loves gusty winds that rustle the leaves on the trees.
They know I'm the girl who stops and stares when thick, dark clouds start rolling in.
And they know I'm the girl who loves sheets and sheets of rain.
Yes, that's the kind of girl I am.
I'm the kind that cycles right into an unexpected thunderstorm. I'm the kind who doesn't skedaddle when there's a clap of thunder. I don't run for shelter when there's a few (pathetic) droplets of rain. I don't wait out a drizzle. And I don't carry an umbrella.
Yeah, I just don't. Not because I have anything against umbrellas (some of them are really pretty!) but as far as it goes, I find them an unnecessary accessory, an extra weight, and an item in my bag which I stubbornly refuse to use. (Very Sorry to The Parents who bought me a lightweight Japanese umbrella... but they've given up on me ever carrying a brolly)
That being said, I don't dance in the rain... :D
Sure, I'd love it, but practicality reigns, and so much so as I'd want to kick off my shoes, hop out onto the pavement and raise my face to the refreshing, freeing rain, boarding the airconditioned bus looking like a drowned rat won't earn me any sympathetic favors either.
So I settle for hoodies, parkas and hooded sweatshirts instead.
Which, of course, are also one of the things I have a deep, deep, deep love for.
I think I've made it comfortably known to just about anyone who has come my way. We don't even need to have met. As long as you're a business acquaintance (whom we may have shook hands one time at a networking meeting), a Facebook acquaintance (whom the algorithms invited and we accepted), or someone whom social media thinks I should know, you're going to know just how much I love rain.
It is a love that goes beyond breathing in nice, cool air tinted with the scent of rain. It is a love that goes beyond refreshing and revitalising the dry, parched land.
Instead it is a love that leads me all the way back to my childhood where my home in the northeast meant that it rained buckets, sheets, cats, and dogs during the months of November, December and January.
I think of rain the same way I think of Christmas. I think of rain the same way I think of Christmas shopping and wrapping Christmas presents. I think of rain in the way I'd reach out my hand through the open window and let the heavy drops fall on my palm. And I think of rain the same way I think of a steaming bowl of instant noodles cooked just the way I like it with cuttlefish balls, egg and prawn balls.
This is not a love I've kept hidden from family, friends, and loved ones either.
They know me, and my affinity with rain, all too well.
They know I'm the girl who loves overcast, cool and grey skies.
They know I'm the girl who loves gusty winds that rustle the leaves on the trees.
They know I'm the girl who stops and stares when thick, dark clouds start rolling in.
And they know I'm the girl who loves sheets and sheets of rain.
Yes, that's the kind of girl I am.
I'm the kind that cycles right into an unexpected thunderstorm. I'm the kind who doesn't skedaddle when there's a clap of thunder. I don't run for shelter when there's a few (pathetic) droplets of rain. I don't wait out a drizzle. And I don't carry an umbrella.
Yeah, I just don't. Not because I have anything against umbrellas (some of them are really pretty!) but as far as it goes, I find them an unnecessary accessory, an extra weight, and an item in my bag which I stubbornly refuse to use. (Very Sorry to The Parents who bought me a lightweight Japanese umbrella... but they've given up on me ever carrying a brolly)
That being said, I don't dance in the rain... :D
Sure, I'd love it, but practicality reigns, and so much so as I'd want to kick off my shoes, hop out onto the pavement and raise my face to the refreshing, freeing rain, boarding the airconditioned bus looking like a drowned rat won't earn me any sympathetic favors either.
So I settle for hoodies, parkas and hooded sweatshirts instead.
Which, of course, are also one of the things I have a deep, deep, deep love for.