Did you know I’ve always loved the rain?

I tend to get weird looks whenever I say that to people; most folk tend to see it as the ruiner of an otherwise perfectly good day, but I disagree. I love it! Maybe it’s just a British defence mechanism.

It’s partly wrapped in nostalgia. I remember being about 9 or 10, driving around somewhere with me mum, and it was raining and I just remember feeling incredibly happy. Everything was just absolutely alright in that moment — I was warm, I was safe, I was sound.

Looking outside and seeing it’s raining is a signal for cosiness and contentment. It’s a sign of a world that’s alive and moving; rain is dynamic by it’s very nature, and so to see it refreshing the world around it makes me feel invigorated. If I sleep in on a rainy day I’m usually pretty disappointed, it feels like I’ve missed out.

I think too many people overthink the rain. Allowing something to ruin an otherwise perfect moment does a disservice to all the other things that would otherwise make that moment perfect. I used to hate that. I used to find nearly perfect even more agonising than straight up imperfect. The frustration of something almost being what I wanted it to be felt like a black hole of opportunity, and it’d stick in my brain long after anything could feasibly done about it.

I guess this is a riff on gratitude. If the fact that it’s raining is the worst thing going on that day, it’s a sign things are going pretty swimmingly otherwise, right?

Have a bloody lovely day.

Photo by Andrew Spencer on Unsplash