“Do not be angry with the rain; it simply does not know how to fall upwards.” ~Vladimir Nabakov~
I looked out of my window and cursed at the heavy rainfall that had failed to cease since earlier this morning. Doesn’t the rain know how much people in general dread its non-stop pitter-pattering? It was just yesterday that I heard a colleague swearing over the sound of thunder after being drenched while fetching her daughter from school. Another colleague cursed the rain for being merciless towards her clothing which was left out to dry while she was at work. A third colleague protested at the heavy traffic caused by the rain. Needless to say, the rain paid no heed to our protests and grumbles and persisted.
I took an impatient glance at my watch as I was determined not to let the impertinent rain delay me. Carefully dressed and prepped for my important engagement that afternoon, I grabbed my bags and keys, not forgetting an umbrella, and headed out.
I cursed aloud at the dark clouds as my new shoes began to get wet and messy from the heavy downpour. The wind seemed to be howling at me in response and as if to punish me for cursing, a sudden strong spray of drizzle and wind overcame me, knocking the umbrella off my hands as I strove to push my way against the stubbornness of the wind. I ran in pursuit of my umbrella and by the time I reclaimed it, I was soaked. I looked up at the dark clouds above me, feeling helpless and very much frustrated. I would not have the time to return home and change if I were to keep my appointment.
As the endless raindrops trickled down my face, I was reminded of the times when I was a little girl. How I used to enjoy playing in the rain. I recalled looking up at the sky, enjoying the gentle breeze against my face and willing the drizzling drops of water to trickle down my hair and against my cheeks. I recalled my excitement as I searched for a silver lining within the dark clouds that my mother told me about.
Being brought up on a diet of Enid Blyton books, I was a believer in magic and adventures, of fairies and toys that come alive at night. I was not fortunate enough to own many toys in my childhood as I was born into a family of limited means. I looked instead for adventures in raindrops, fallen tree trunks, the touch-me-not leaves (daun semalu in Malay), the silver fern leaves, or anything my imagination touched.
I would happily welcome rain because I knew that there would be no rainbow without rain. I would play in the drizzle until my mother dragged me back into the house, where I waited impatiently by the window for the beautiful colours of the rainbow to appear. I would pass my time counting the lines in the rainbow or I would look for tadpoles by my neighbour’s fish pond or occasionally stare at the sky imagining the magical creatures the shapes of the white cotton clouds were forming.
It pains me to think that the little girl who could see the unusual in the ordinary is no more. Today, when I see dark clouds, I curse at the weather, willing the rain to come another day. To think that, at one time in my almost forgotten past, I would have innocently tried to look for a silver lining in it.
Today, when it rains, I only think of the inconvenience it causes me. I no longer gaze in wonder at the ringlets made by fallen raindrops on puddles of water. I no longer appreciate the rain for the rainbow that it brings with it afterwards.
It is truly sad what growing up does to most of us. We may hold steady careers, live in classy condominiums, drive luxury cars, and enjoy the material pleasures of adulthood but we lose the ability to enjoy the little pleasures in life; we lose our sense of wonder and magic.
As the thought of my girlish existence lingered, I loosened my grip on my umbrella as the wind once again beat against it and carried it across the street. I looked up at the sky, delighting in the falling raindrops against my face, and gazed thoughtfully at the imaginary silver lining hidden between two dark clouds mysteriously shaped like a pony and a hare. With a much lighter heart, I began to walk back in the direction of my home. My ‘important’ meeting would have to wait…
“If I had influence with the good fairy who is supposed to preside over the christening of all children I should ask that her gift to each child in the world be a sense of wonder so indestructible that it would last throughout life, as an unfailing antidote against the boredom and disenchantments of later years, the sterile preoccupation with things artificial, the alienation from the sources of our strength.”
~Rachel Carson; The Sense of Wonder~
Written by: Agnes Chin
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