Ode to All Things Rain

Mentions of death, crashes, and divorce.

It felt like forever till I came back. Months, years, forevers, but I finally realized it had been days.

Oh, and the joy I felt, realizing I was back and you hadn’t changed a bit.

I can see you. Green eyes, brown hair. They seem to match the surroundings, as if you are trying to blend in. Black tank top, jean shorts. Bracelet, necklace, hair up in a ponytail. This isn't what you usually wear. You must've just come from school.

In fact, you might actually be trying to blend in. Last time I was here, I could hear the yelling from the house. Your mom and dad, right? Yeah, things like that happen, but thankfully you have me to turn to. Who needs them anyway?

The world seems extra green today. Flowery, wet. The air is hot and humid, but you don’t mind. The way you stretch your arms out in satisfaction as little pellets hit your skin shows that the way your hair frizzes doesn’t affect your joy. And as you see water flow down leaves as green as your eyes and soak into dirt as dark as your hair, peace. Yes, peace is the way to describe it.

I guess I indulge in this ‘peace’ too, even though the softer the pattering-sounds get means the closer I am to leaving. The faster my color changes, the faster I’m expelled away to go trouble someone else. Sure, plenty of people enjoy me, but none like you.

Forgive me for being poetic, but you seem to live and breathe me. No sun around, just me, floating by in an array of darkness. Of course, most of the time you don’t see me; your eyes are closed. But, when you do open them, I see you watching me, cat-like eyes trained on my grey ones.

I remember the first time I saw you. A man, your father, perhaps? He took your hand and led you outside. You trembled, possibly scared at the loud yells I let out as others poked me along. You were scared, probably, because you remember what happened to your uncle, and what had caused his untimely death but I promise, that wasn’t me.

Anyway, your father led you out, and for the first time you understood why the earth had such a thing. Joy filled your eyes as you spun and splashed and danced, and your father watched gleefully. You finally understood how something so terrible could be so beautiful at the same time.

You know, he misses your uncle too. He doesn’t try to forget him, but it’s painful. You understand.

The second time I saw you, you were much older. A year or two more, sneaking out of your window and onto the squelchy grass. Your mother yelled, “You’re going to get a cold!” You, of course, ignored her.

I saw you more and more often, and slowly your mom stopped warning you. She just let you out, allowing you to spend what felt like hours under the waters. It was soothing, I think, to you. For me, it was just another day. Another day of work I was being paid for minimally. I only got paid more if something bad happened, which it rarely did.

Until about a year ago.

You were dancing in the street, like usual. You were soaking wet and soppy, and covered from shoes to knees in mud. Your hair was down and you were wearing a blue crew neck. You had baggy jeans on and no shoes.

Suddenly, you heard the familiar ‘wrrr’ of a car, so you retreated to your porch. You sat on the steps and continued to watch the neighborhood as the car turned onto your street, starting to speed up a little as, I guess, it’s house came into view.

And then it slid.

All you could do was watch. The car began skidding, tires spinning and nothing happening. Moving back and forth, sliding away across the street. Speed built up. And soon, the front of the car was slamming into a light pole.

You got scared and ran inside. You didn’t see this next part, but I did. Slowly, I instructed the water droplets. And slowly, the whole accident was gone. The people were fine, their car was fixed up. They were moved down the street, out of your sight. The light pole stopped flickering.

You came back out. Shock echoed across your face. You looked around the whole street, inspected the pole. Nothing.

Thankfully, I was still paid more than usual for causing the crash. But, a bit was docked for saving them. We aren’t supposed to save people, but I did. To save you.

You stopped going outside for a while. Probably fear. Probably your idea that you were going mad. That would certainly be what I thought, but what do I know? I know you were scared, and it was all because of me. You would’ve been scared even if I had left the car and people, but I still kicked myself every day. It caused more outbursts, more storms. But when I saw you again, all the anger melted away.

You came slinking out of the house, stepping carefully onto the road and into a puddle. You had a black jacket on, probably from your mom, and some jeans. Your hair was half-up, and your gold earrings shimmered in the dim light of the day. I told one of my colleagues to make a sound, and soon a big boom echoed around. You looked up.

I swore you saw me. You smiled. You threw off the jacket. You stretched your arms out.

And you danced.

And I danced with you. I let the water fall a little harder, blurring the air and making the world dreamy. Mist settled across the road and, when no one was looking, I jumped down. You didn’t see me appear, but I was there. I danced along with you, warming your hands, and twirling you. My presence probably was felt. Someone, the person of your dreams, was there, dancing with you in the rain. Then, as another boom signaled me back up, I floated to the sky, watching you continue to dance.

I watched the rain slow and the puddles still, your clothing staying one shade. For the first time, I think we both saw each other. I think we both understood.

Back to today. I watched you run out of the house, falling to your knees into a deep puddle. Water was up to your mid-thighs and your hands were touching the bottom. Tears got confused with rain and began falling quickly, trying to sort itself out.

I watched. It seemed like all I did was watch. And, honestly, I was getting sick of it. I felt my own tears forming, and soon the rain was harder and the world was greener and the sky was greyer. Your ponytail sat limp and wet on your shoulder, and you shivered as your bare left shoulder bore the rest of the water.

I couldn’t help it. As I descended, I felt my contract, my job, being snipped away. But, down I went, eyes fixed on you.

It was always you.

And wrapped my arms around you, warming your shoulders, using my head to shield you from the rest of the water. It ran down my back, prickling my skin and making me tremble. But I sat, and I comforted you.

After a while, I stood and took your hands. You stood with me and began dancing with me. We spun and twirled, the world dancing with us. The rain fell, but softer, like a kiss. Your tears slowed. A smile spread on your lips. I smiled back. You kept your eyes shut.

We danced for what felt like forever, and it was amazing. I had done my job, if it were the last job I would ever do. Feeling warmer tears pricking at my eyes, I spun you, around and around. I twirled you away, and you spun like a top for a few seconds, landing gracefully on your heel.

Finally, your eyes opened. The emerald green peered at me, and I knew you could see me.

Cautiously, you waved.

I waved back.