Posted in Musings

Raindrops On A Leafy Afternoon

You know how everyone is a type of day deep, deep, down? Some drip sunshine so bright that you wear sunglasses to take in all their beauty. Some are dewy mornings that invoke a quiet wonder in everything around you. Some are dark nights riddled with thunder claps and lightening strikes. Some are quiet evenings that calm you down. Some are light drizzles on a warm summer day that send a rainbow your way. Some are freezing winters pushing you to seek comfort in warmth elsewhere. Some are spring mornings weaving butterflies in your hair. Have you ever thought about what kind of day you might be?

I think I’ve always been a rainy afternoon.

Waking up to rain at dawn makes you cozy and reminiscent; you reach for the blanket and contemplate wistfully about staying in all day. Rains in the evening have you reaching for a cup of warm coffee and watching the droplets fall idly from your roof. Rain at night has you huddling around to share stories and perhaps read a love story by candlelight.

Afternoon rains are a different. They are the kind that makes you think about the umbrella you forgot at home, and has you crowding impatiently at the doorway, waiting for a respite that doesn’t come. The kind where a chilly air blows through your hair, and cold water drips down your neck from a leak on the roof as you join a bus full of strangers smelling of damp clothes. The kind where the walk home is bound to be full of a million brown puddles and muddy footprints on the staircase. The kind that makes you, a pluviophile, want nothing more than a fresh pair of clothes and the safe indoors. The kind that reeks of heartbreaks, loneliness and melancholic violin notes.

I’ve always been an afternoon rain, and yet something is different.

I’m so used to the cold, that I surprise myself every time I smile widely at an empty room. I feel an ounce of light leaking from the tip of my lower lip, and then another from a fragment of my iris. My tongue rolls in my mouth, unsure about why it’d want to aid in the escape of a laugh that’s brimming on the sides of my cheeks. A sparkle leaves my eye and lodges itself in the corner of a mirror. I lean back and sigh at the raindrops that fall in a cool cascade around my heart.

One word resonates – ambient happiness. Like the enticing charm of a new love, like a clandestine rendezvous on a forest path.

Did you know time ceases to exist or matter in the depths of a rainforest? When hit by a cloudburst, it catches each harsh splash in its foliage and eases it down; letting the drops fall like dainty flowers at its feet. That’s where afternoon rains belong – down in the misty darkness of its entangled roots.

The doorbell rings, and he steps in after a long day. My dear, darling rainforest. I burst forth, falling into his strong green limbs and he lets me cool his weary sunburnt skin, as a quiet trickle of bliss seeps into the earth beneath our feet.

Author:

A wayward thinker hiding behind the facade of necessary courtesies

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