07 June 2015
10:23 AM. The clock's monotonous ticking draws up into reality. My eyes flutter several times to acknowledge my surroundings. The sheets are warm. Morning dust covers my eyes. I am too comfortable to be stirred out of bed and acknowledge the minimalistic to-do schedule waiting for me upstairs. No; today is one of those days to view the world, in all five senses.
The soft pattering of the rain on my window is calming. I slowly rise up to draw away curtains which obstruct the window view. Raindrops on windows are beautiful to watch. They would first land onto the surface as individuals. Slowly, as more droplets land and merge together, a thin layer of water would inverted reveal itself. This is the view I see.
I lay back onto my bed and draw the blankets closer. Passing cars which rush to work greet me with a whoosh of water spraying onto sides of the street. The intensity of the rain mirrors a ballet dancer: delicate, yet powerful.
Thoughts of this summer replicating the summer of '10 or '11 -- one of the rainiest summers in the state -- enter in an unwelcome fashion. The idea, I presume, must come from there being one sun break in the weather, when my cousins and I visited a playground fresh from a drizzle.
I imagine New York City and their rain: millions of people rush to snag a taxi while shielding their morning coffee to the best of their abilities. In the midst of all of the orderly chaos would be a person with a yellow umbrella, standing out from the network of rainy shields.
And the thought, of there being a bright sun in all of the down pour, makes me smile.