A Rainy Wednesday Evening

Like always, I sat on the door jamb on this breezy and rainy Wednesday evening, sipping on my tomato soup and crunching on the waffy cube. I sat there staring at the raindrops that made me a bit anxious to drive me down back to the memory lane of someone who still means a lot to me.

Out of my habit, I touched the raindrops slumbering on the floor with my finger to scribble a name,


Looking at it vacantly for a while, I smudged it with a drop of water. This drop never fell from the sky, but it rolled down my cheeks.

The pitter-patter sound of the rain which used to be a noise some days before has now become a music. The tune I always want to play; not because I like it, nut because it sweeps out the silence in the room. Maybe the pitter-patter sound is a message from that someone, which I’m failing to decode. Repeatedly.

I still stare outside at the haze blooming due to the continuously increasing rain. It was then, when I realized the absence of the haze in the environment and made it clear that it was because of the dampness over my eyes, still trying to blame that name and denying to move on.

Moving my fingers hastingly over my eyes to clear the haze, I tried to converge my attention on the roads, on the garden and on anything rather than the thoughts.

I looked closely at the new green leaves and judging on its breed, I tagged it as a jungle that would be chopped off soon and perceiving that how agile and brutish life is.

Stepping further at the roses and the lilies, I realized how something that smudged a name before is beautifying another thing here.

“Nature always surprises you.” they say and I accepted it now with grace.

To construct the proper bridge of this so-called ‘Romantic Season’ I plugged in my i-pod; but before I could turn that on, the nature got it all set to show its talent. It started its very own concert. Starting with the beats of the thunder to the drumming of the raindrops, everything the nature played was perfect and didn’t even allow me to tap on my playlist. I wanted to steal that song but I know nature may have objection to that.

The only robbery no one objects is the stealing stories from the peoples’ life.

There I see a couple standing under an umbrella and encountering the love induced in the air. The cold sprinkles of the raindrops brought them even closer as the girl tried to cuddle and the boy trying to comfort and protect her from the cold drops.

On the other hand, I see a little girl in her pink raincoat stepping on the pavement holding her father’s hand who was trying to give her another layer of love and care by an umbrella over her head.

Still sitting on the jamb and gazing at the two kinds of love with haze still in my eyes, I wished you to be here and allow me to protect and care like the two men did on this rainy Wednesday evening.

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