I never liked rain.
Although the graceful dance of the trickling droplets could humble the Apsaras themselves, I never liked it. I never liked dancing too.
The arrival of clouds, to me, was an omen of impending doom; soon to be followed by gusts of cold wind that would so mercilessly steal whatever little warmth I'd accumulated over the years.
I couldn't look beyond two feet in front of me when it rained. And in the place we dwell in, it rains often.
The generous, cosy space offered by my humble cottage in the woods was too valuable a treasure to give up.
Paired with biscuits and hot tea, rainy evenings weren't as horrible, as long as they were well within the confinement of my cottage's walls.
But then she came by, and everything changed.
One rainy day, she held me by my hand, playfully dragging me into the one thing I despised the most. She wouldn't heed to my refusals. Two seconds later, I was guillotined by the heavy downpour.
The cold almost knocked the life out of me. A few moments passed, and things started to get better. But it was still cold.
Through the downpour, I could see the innocent face of a playful child beaming at me. "Does she not feel the same cold I do?“, I wondered.
A moment later, she slipped into a dance so gentle and merriful, the dead flowers in the garden had begun to bloom again.
Watching her skip around the garden drew my attention away from the usual preoccupations that tortured my mind. All I needed to attend to was her. And that was precisely what I did.
And then, I stopped feeling cold.
Even though it wasn't absent, but I had simply chosen to ignore it, the rain's cold didn't sting me anymore.
The lack of visibility didn't bother me either. It couldn't, when all I would ever need was well within two feet of me, holding on to me as hard as I was holding on to her.
She beckoned to me to dance.
If there was one thing I wouldn't do even if the sky broke apart, it would be to dance.
I had never thought of myself to be ever able to depict my utter lack of emotion through dancing, so I naturally grew to hate it.
But, that day, however, my feet were moving of their own accord, and for some godforsaken reason, I wasn't willing to stop them.
The flowers blossomed, and joined us, gently swaying about in the wind.
We danced and pranced about in the rain till it stopped. Cliché as it may sound, it felt like we were frozen in time and were left to our own meditations. And we had chosen to dance.
We danced to heaven's end.
Once it was over, I found myself wishing - for the first time - that it had never stopped raining. But alas, the rain wanted to mock me for ignoring its presents, all this while.
As we walked back into the cottage, I realised that it seemed more welcoming than it was ever before. For warmth only stands out when you're surrounded by cold.
She served biscuits and tea that day. They had never felt that delicious before, or after. Every crumb of the biscuits was ingrained with love, and so was every drop of the tea.
It is a pity that I'll never find tea that wholesome ever again. And yet, I still have some today, sitting at the windowsill. It reminds me of that day.
It rained yet again today.
I walked out into the rain. The first step into the garden bit me with cold.
But this time, there was nothing to distract me from it - no more warmth within 2 feet of me; no more dead flowers being brought back to life; no more company that can force me into a jig,
except the memories of her existence. So I returned, disappointed in the way events had rolled out since that day. But it wasn't the fault of the rain.
And here I find myself, sitting by the windowsill, sipping the bland tea I made for myself. I stare out the window, jealous of the dance of the drops trickling down that glass pane.
This time though, I don't blame the rain - for it has left me with memories that will last for a lifetime - happy ones at that.
In fact, I have fallen in love with it - a love deepened by the increasing distance between its lovers.
The rain must've had the same love for her, for the raindrops gently caressed the flowers blooming on the mud that held her grave. It misses her as much as I do.
She changed everything, without actually changing anything. She came like the rain, wetting me with her love, and left just like it, leaving a rainbow in the sky.