I’m walking down the road, feeling lonely, but not without company. Twilight. The sun, a gigantic red ball to my right. The sky, the colour of dried indigo.I feel a drop fall on my right shoulder, an inch from the maroon stripe, i had so very liked when i had bought the orange shirt three months ago. The water drop is spreading, blotting my shirt into a darker tinge. I look up at the sky, my eyelid closing just in time to stop the falling rain drop from reaching my eye, but not before i notice the water drop falling down from the sky. A free fall. A free, careless fall. I love the rain. I do. I was eight when i experienced my first hail storm. The pellets of ice falling from the heights hurt me, kept hitting me as though the sky did not like seeing me under it. I did not budge. I liked the hail. I liked the storm. I loved the rain. i did. I was twelve when i learnt all about precipitation and how rain “fell”. I was ten . It was raining. It was raining for me. I liked the rain. I wanted to play. I wanted to play with the rain. My Grandma didnt let me. She was afraid I’hd catch a cold. I was eleven and it was raining. I wanted to play. My mom didnt let me. She was afraid I’hd spoil my new clothes.

But today, I am free. No ma or grandma to stop me. I am free like the falling rain drop is. And today, i shall let myself be taken by the rain. I shall enslave myself to the rain, completely, unabashedly, unashamed. I pray for the rain to come, to come pouring out of the sky, for me. People around me are running for cover. The rain is moving from “a drizzle” to “a heavy rain”, drenching me. I love the rain. I do. I’m loving every moment of it. My clothes are soaked. I’m drenched to the bone. The wind is chilly. I shiver. I look around embarrased, but happy that no one had seen me shiver. i love the rain. I do.I’m now walking along a tree lined road, 60 ft wide. My companions have since left me for cover. I’m now alone, but not lonely.

(to be continued…)