Rainy Day

I walked through my neighborhood on a rainy afternoon. It wasn’t a storm so there was no lightning, no thunder, just the soft pitter-patter of rain on my umbrella. The rain wasn’t a downpour, but it wasn’t so soft as the not ruin a picnic. Pitter-patter, pitter-patter, pitter-patter. I felt the rhythm of the rain as it bounced of my umbrella, it felt like it was calling out to me, like it needed me. Something, I don’t know what, possessed me to close my umbrella and feel, and I felt, and as the tears of god washed over me it filled me with something, not strength, not courage, not faith, nothing so concrete as those, but something none the less, something otherworldly, something disheartening, yet empowering. I bathed in that something, I let it coat my entire being, until a shiver ran down my spine as the chill of the rain began to pass the point of comfort. I opened my umbrella, and continued my walk, using the rhythmic drumming of the rain as it bounced off my umbrella to meditate on what I had felt.