rainy thursday

It’s pouring out, and I love it.

I’ve always loved rainy days where the sky is dim and full of pillowy, ashen-grey clouds. There’s something tranquil and comforting about this. It comes from fond memories of my childhood when I’d be warm, dry and cozy inside. In my warm home with my Mom, Dad and sister, Janet.

We had kittens too, and they would huddle in the back laundry room to stay warm and dry as well. I’d go visit them and scoop each of their furry, fragile little bodies into my cradled arms and rub my cheeks on their fuzzy backs. They’d purr like crazy. We’d watch the rain pour together. I felt safe with them. They felt safe with me.

I also had so many fun things to do when it rained outside. I had my paper or barbie dolls…I’d sometimes play Nintendo (Super Mario 1!) or watch Nickelodeon like Pinwheel, You Can’t Do That On Television or Mr. Wizard.

I loved it when the winds blew fiercely and the thunder boomed into the sky, slamming hard into the ground and vibrating our walls. I especially loved it when the power went out and we’d light candles. Mom would light candles, pour some wax on canned goods and stuck them tightly on top. The house would have soothing, soft glows scattered around the kitchen and living rooms. I remember our seashell decoration that draped from the ceiling and it would sway gently from the rainy breeze that flowed into our house. It was like a delicate, melodic windchime that sounded like little bells in a random and rhythmic orchestra.

I would also draw all day long with my favorite pen and listened to the pitter patter of the rain hitting the glass on the windows and lose all track of time or space. It was just me, my pen and paper, drawing girls in fashionable attire.

When hours pass and the puddles fill up outside, I’d venture on out and slip my toes, then my feet into the cool, clear and clean rain puddles that often go up to my ankles, swirling with stray leaves and twigs. I’d circle the house a few times, exploring different pools of rain puddles before I felt that craving for the warmth of Mom’s presence, the soft and dry living room with the enchanting musical seashells and the smell of something yummy coming (as always) from the kitchen.


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