As a child, I loved the rain. Because the rain always envelopes me and swallows all my pains. My father, once so loving, had changed completely. We were alright until My grandpa became so bent on my father getting another wife because my mum had no male child. The day that strange woman stepped into our lives, the world seemed to have gone dark. My mother tried to hold the family together with trembling hands and a broken heart but things were never the same
I first cried in the rain when I was five. It was the day I overheard my mother crying bitterly in her room, I woke up that night to go and pee. Standing in the dark in the corridor I had my mum cry as the rain beat the roof it was disheartening Her sobs broke my heart I walked into the rain and broke down alongside my weeping mother, and for a moment, I felt as if the heavens were crying with me, washing away the ache that had lodged itself in my heart
This became a ritual for me. Whenever the weight of the world pressed too heavily on me, I hid in the rain or shower and let it all out. The rush of water drowning out me and washing my tears became a solace
Time passed, and I am now a grown woman The pain of abandonment remained a quiet shadow, but I refused to let it define me. Fighting to excel in all ramifications of life. On the surface, I seem unshakable, my laughter always bright and my determination fierce. But in the quiet moments, when memories of my father, the strange woman resurfaced or life’s pressures became too much, I returned to the rain.
I found love eventually, and though I struggle to embrace it, my man reassures me every day that his love for me is like unending showers. Sometimes, I don't know how to relate to my parents, especially my father. I love them but am still haunted by those bad memories.
I still dance and cry in the rain. But I bask in my husband's love. I dance in the rain and bask in his Love, so, yes, I love the rain.
