Soft Country Rain

It rained again, two mornings ago. Usually, we are very thankful to experience some rain here in the Middle East. Even drizzles meant blessings as these few droplets are like tiny sprinkles of life. Sprinkles of life that patches up cracks on dry lands, sprinkles of life that gives hope to some dry hearts and broken lives.

However, frequent rain, somehow, can be a bit alarming. One cannot expect so much of rain when you live in the desert.

I stepped out of the house that morning, without bringing an umbrella with me. I don’t have an umbrella anyway. On second thoughts, I think I have one. The one that the salon gave me as a gift after spending a fortune for hair rebonding, years ago. But this umbrella is somewhere, hidden beneath the piles of forgotten notebooks and old, unused clothes. Somewhere. We always have that somewhere. A place where you keep things that you don’t need anymore but you still hold on to.

I run-walked till I reached the metro station, without an umbrella, without a jacket, thinking I’m invincible. It didn’t take long for my clothes and bag to get a bit wet, but I thought it’s ok. It’s ok to get wet as long as I don’t get drenched.

It was my shoes that I was so worried about. My shoes are not the most expensive ones but they are the most comfortable ones. And comfortable ones are more difficult to find than expensive ones. They are thin and light, meant for long walks, meant for extremely hot weather. They aren’t meant for rains, they aren’t meant to get soaked in water. Soak the shoes in water for so long, they’ll fall apart. Just like hearts aren’t meant to get drenched in so much pain. Drench a heart in pain for so long, it falls apart.

I reached the office, a bit wet but not drenched.

It’s surprising to have this much rain, my boss said.

Yes, I almost felt like I’m in the Philippines because of the frequent rain, I said.

But the rain today is so nice. This is the soft country rain, he said.

I looked at him. Half laughing, half mocking. I’ve never heard of a soft country rain. My bad, maybe for not studying well. All I know is that I can tell the difference between rain and typhoon.

Sir, for me a bit of rain is good, a bit more means flood, a lot more means disaster. 

He laughed. The soft country rain is the rain that brings life to the crops. They do us good. 

He laughed again. You still have a lot more to learn. A lot more.

Author: aysabaw

Aysa is a self-proclaimed hotelier without any culinary talent. She used to fly around Dubai for ten years via her magic carpet but destiny led her to a new path. She is now a little mermaid swimming in and around the Maldivian waters. If she is not reading her books, writing something comical, leaving rubbish comments on your posts or strumming her guitar, then she's up to some mischief.

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