of rainy mornings

Rain..that magic descending straight from the heavens always “gets” to me. I can’t explain the feelings these soft drops of pure magic invoke in me. These are feelings that the inner poet and writer responds to, laps it up and hoards it for those days that don’t have a speck of clouds in the sky.

Often people tell me that I will start hating rain if I start living in a place where it rains almost every day ( even the mere idea gives me feel-good-goosebumps) and that I would not find it so “charming” or so “poetic” if I have to run errands in mud and slush. I quietly wonder to myself how and why do people get to tell us what we will like or won’t like (hmm) but then again people have been telling me for decades now that Johnny Depp isn’t handsome (imagine the poor taste people have) and that chocolate will make me fat ‘ter’ (ha!) and that sleeping really isn’t a habit. Little do they know that Johnny Depp is the best version of male anatomy, and that chocolate has helped me stick to the decision of not murdering certain people (including those hating the chocolate) and that sleeping for longer periods of time is one day going to become part of the Olympics (I will sneer at them when I win the gold!)

So you see people, rain is not so bad..living in places where it rains is not bad either. Falling in love with rain, the music the raindrops make against the windowsill, the scent it creates when it falls on the dry,parched earth, the sight of small,iridescent drops racing each other on the windshield is something I will never ever get tired of even if I am living in England or the rain capital of America or better still up there in the fluffy clouds!

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