That Constant Rain

{Via}

People say my city merely mists.  It can rain for an hour, and you'll be barely wet.  That they don't even notice when it starts to rain.

But if you're like me, and you grew up here, driving these streets, seeing those stores, those mountains, those houses, you notice the rain.  You notice as it barely starts, as it stains the white concrete with just a few drops.  You notice as a raindrop lands on your head.

"It's raining," you say.  "Again."

The rain falls constantly, it sometimes seems.  Today was a constant rain.  The kind of rain that made you simply want to sit, huddled in a blanket with a cup of tea and a good book.  The kind of rain that you can hear as it strikes the house, a constant pitter-patter.

Eventually, that pitter-patter fades away from your consciousness, and you don't even notice it anymore.  You struggle to hear it, to tell if it's still raining.  Until you finally hear it, the soft, pitter-patter, of that constant rain.

{Via}

Today was a constant rain.

Pitter-patter, pitter-patter.

Walking home in a constant rain,

I huddled,

Half under an umbrella.

Eventually, I gave up,

And stepped out of it's black and turquise polka-dotted protection, and walked.

In the rain.

That constant rain.

My hair was dripping,

Water down my face.

My friends thought I was crazy.

As I hopped on my toes through puddles.

And I got soaking wet.

Drip, drip drip.

But I didn't mind the rain-- not too much.

Maybe a little,

But only a little.

Even though I probably complained.

Because sometimes,

You just want to walk in the rain.

That constant rain.

{Via}

The Dandy Lioness