On rainy days, the townsfolk grow quiet, the gardens are thankful and candles glow in dimly-lit houses. The rain allows for calm, as an excuse for an otherwise constant hustle and bustle in households. There is a faint tapping on windows to remind my heart to follow its rhythm, while drops tickle pedals to show me that slow is perfectly okay. Classroom teachers even slow their pace in lessons, while shop keepers speak in low voices. Vehicles on roads practice caution, as it it takes water to force them back into early drivers.
I like the rain, because I thrive in slow and calm. The earth’s droplets bring crowds to a state I am content in. As I walked the streets umbrella in hand, the green grew brighter as the skies brought darkness. Can colours be more vibrant when clouds encroach our lives? And how could I hate something that makes the earth’s treasures happy? How could I curse something in its absence and shake my fists in its presence? I am happy when it rains, as the soft mist hugs my skin, the crowds slow down, and my boots finally have their day.