Hear it on my window pane. . .
I’m the not the kind of person who loves the summer so much, no. In fact I hate it. While summer usually signals the Bugs Bunny season (no more classes, no more books, no more teachers, dirty looks!), and as a teacher, it’s typically welcomed with much hurrah (no more classes, no more books, no more stupid students, dirty looks!), I have to say I don’t like this time that much. I hate it with a passion.
It’s the heat that I cannot take, you see.
Granted that my monicker invokes the great big fiery star up in the heavens, I’m not much into summer. My monicker (email persona to you) is simply my homage to the English bard and his famous Sonnet 18, that is all. But it must be put on record that I really don’t care much about how “sometime too hot, the eye of heaven shines, and often is his gold complexion dimmed.”
Give me the rains anytime, that’s what I say.
People closest to me know about me and my love affair with the rain. I love it. With so much passion. I love how I feel refreshed during the rainy season. Nevermind the floods. Nevermind the wet look (drying your hair is pointless during this season, especially if you commute). Nevermind the laundry issues (there’s always Downy). Nevermind school being cancelled (well hurrah, actually). Nevermind the hassle it brings to my household, especially when the rain seeps through my windowsill. Nevermind how the wood parquet in my bedroom upstairs now needs to be replaced, no thanks to the numerous typhoons that came last year.
Don’t get me wrong. I don’t like typhoons. I hate power outages brought about by storms. But the rain. . .
I cannot change how I feel about rain.
Especially not now when the summer season here in the Philippines is just too much for any person to bear. It’s so hot I feel like all my fat has, oh what’s the word? Evaporated? Been sucked dry? Desiccated?
I miss the rain so much. I miss its comforting pitter patter on the rooftop. I miss its cooling effect on my skin. I miss its smell on grass the most. You know that smell, right? Not its smell on hard pavement, no. Rain on grass—- it’s this earthy, very rich, heady kind of smell. Very intoxicating to me. Rain on garden grass, ah, that is just one of nature’s best gifts to me.
Yes, to me. I always think of rain as nature’s way of telling me that life is good. It may sound corny to you, but to me, it’s practically a fact. All is well when it rains. All is well every time it rains.
While all is well (I think) on my end, I’m sure it can still be better.
Rain, oh rain. Wherefore art thou, oh rain?