Why I love the rain...

Let me see if I can paint the picture... I'd say to close your eyes, but you're reading, so just imagine as you read.

The quickly dimming light of an overcast evening sneaks through the gaps of the dark brown curtains hanging on the wall. Cars pass by, almost incessantly, outside, splashing through puddles growing larger with each drop that falls. On occasion, the soft patter of raindrops crashing full speed into the window provide a punctuated beat to the continual drone of traffic outside. I sit, reclined, in an old blue computer chair, with a well-maintained but visibly well-loved guitar across my lap. Eyes closed, I strum chords, pluck strings, swaying to and fro with the rise and fall of the sound. Sometimes, words will escape my heart, make their way to my mouth, and spring forth in a hushed voice. Other times, a simple hum is all I muster. Songs never end, nor do new ones begin--they simply intertwine--becoming a perpetual symphony that permeates my cozy room.

I love a rainy day. Not always. I'm not packing my things to move to the Pacific Northwest anytime soon, but I do love a good rainy day here and there. There's something peaceful... something cleansing about the rain... something organic. It reminds me of how little power I wield. Can I tell the rain to stop? Sure, I can try, but to no avail. It reminds me of my place, it humbles me.

It brings me peace. The random patter of drops on the window and the splash of cars outside provides an accompanying soundtrack that other evenings fail to offer. Paired with the ringing chords of a guitar, there are few things that sound better.

That, is why I love the rain. However, I must cut this short, the rain is requesting I join in song again.