t was 8 o clock in the morning except it didn’t feel like the morning... the sun was no were to be seen, the sky not bright but dark with clouds all around. It was raining. A beautiful morning except for the brightness there was a melancholy in the atmosphere. The rain kind of a cry of nature, the clouds cascading around as if have been here throughout. A rain that gave you a want, a want of something special. Yes that is how it made you feel. I was up, just like a lazy cat lying there. Every day the bright sunlight pouring through the windows awoke me but today it was the want, the want to go outside and feel the beauty, to take the droplets of the rain on my fingertips and kiss them or may be, be my love r for the day and beautifully comb out the hair entangled because of the wetness.
I opened one eye, looked around, everything seemed the same, the fan moved pretty much the same way I had seen it before sleeping, my nightgown lay there at a corner discarded the way it was last night and other than the draperies soaring high everything was there the way it was. But still I felt different, very in fact. As if the weather had made a flower grow inside me, which was blooming. Don’t know why but my heart beat was racing, like it used to happen before the exams, or the first time I had kissed. I could feel that it was a day of happening.
I sat up and removing the heavy blanket covering my body I flung my arms high in the air and stretched. Closed my eyes for a second and wished that whatever’s to happen be good and with the smile still intact dancing on my lips I made my way to the big widow.
The draperies were given a rest and tied at near the corner. They were not flying any more. But surely my heart was. I could see the droplets slithering down the window pane, making patterns on them and the reflection on my skin. I bet my face with the tumbled mass of my hair, and the reflection of the dancing away droplets looked umm....quite black and white or retro I guess.
My hand as if involuntary went outside to feel the wetness and every drop falling on the skin ran a shiver down the spine as it was cold, very in fact.
The rain beckoned me out, to feel it and cherish it, to admire it more closely, and I not wanting to hurt its sentiments as the others running away from it did made my way out to let it engulf me.
As the thunder and hum of the rain on my skin sang to me, another chord of music joined. It was someone standing behind me.
He was there, walking towards me in long strides, his travelling bag slung casually on one shoulder and flowers in another. The midnight subtle was forming a shadow on his chin and he looked tired. He was back home early. I looked at him confused with a flower unfurling in my stomach. He rushed brushing those tiny droplets clustered at the tips of his hair and took me into his arms and said “I missed you a lot”. Those words were enough to say it all.
As I walked inside into the house, I smiled to myself. I knew this morning would make something happen and it really did.