After the Rain

A raindrop hits my arm and I brush it away. Another hits my cheek and I swipe my hand across that one, too. But then the rain starts coming faster and faster and it's no use anymore. It's just a drizzle at first, but soon it's a downpour.

A car drives by and splashes a wave of water all over me... I think my new boots are ruined.

Water runs in rivulets from my hairline down into my face and I blink away some of the water as I reach up to brush it out of my eyes. I remember belatedly that my hand is wet, so it obviously doesn't do any good.

I'm going to get wet anyway, so it might as well open up and pour.

Let it rain. Let the clouds cry out as much as they want and let their tears drown me, drench me, mix with my own tears. Let the storm hit me, beat me, batter me. Let it make my hair frizzy and my skin soaked. Let the flood come out and let me feel the storm and finally learn to appreciate it. Let the rain hurt me, and I will come out stronger.

Let it rain, and then I can find out what happens after.