The day I liked the rain
Rain is an irritant in my life. A constant irritant now. Light rain, heavy rain, post-rain, typhoon rain, cold rain, hot rain, slushy rain, freezing rain, side-ways rain. I hate rain. Today I sat in a room, on a cushion, on a tatami mat. I looked out past the papered sliding doors into the garden. The mini-water wheel turned at an ever constant pace. The rain started as a fine mist, fogging up the air. It cooled down the room as though the wind had blown through a cooler before reaching me. The rain grew heavier, carving patterns into the pond. It turned the garden the most brilliant shade of green. It thundered down, and yet I was protected completely in my ancient thatched house. The wide doors allowed me to see everything and yet remain dry. I won't say that I have changed my opinion of rain, I am still unhappy to see it come, but I did find that I can experience moments of joy in the rain. Although a symbol of sadness, it does not exclude my happiness.