"When the rain washes you clean you'll know....you will know."
Fleetwood Mac
I
enjoy sometimes
walking in a nice
warm gentle rain. Windy rain is no good - the drops
sting my
skin. But
gentle rains on warm or
hot days are perfect. The way the drops touch me like a
lover, finding just the right spot that I wasn't even aware of a
moment before. The way the water runs over my skin
sensually.
The way I feel
purified, as if all the dirt and
struggle of the day is
washed away. As if each moment of
anger, of
impatience, of not really acknowledging the
people I spoke to has been
forgiven.
I walk with no hat, sometimes no coat. The rain runs through my
long hair, completely
soaking it within a few minutes if it's a
good rain. My hair becomes plastered to my
head,
shoulders,
back. The water flowing through my
hair, through my
fingers, through my
soul.
And I am
alive.
Pure,
simple, aware only of being
wet,
gentle drops, a
soft breeze.