Rainy Weekend

Today, it rained incessantly. All throughout the day, I catch myself peering in the rain. My impulse is to try to catch some by cupping my hands. But I didn't. Instead, I cupped my face while gazing at the raining sky.

Rains trigger memories such as this. Marina Bay, Singapore.

I grew up in this town, my poetry was born between the hill and the river, it took its voice from the rain, and like the timber, it steeped itself in the forests. - Pablo Neruda

Growing up in a small rural town kept me attuned with nature. On rainy weekends, my siblings and I would make paper boats. We were good at folding papers, usually from pages of old notebooks and newspapers. Once done, we would put them on a puddle near our windows. Then, we would gently rock them and hope for a nice breeze to keep them moving. 

In our uncomplicated lives, we were quite content to sit by the bay window while watching our little boats sail. Back then, we would collect rainwater on big water containers. Sometimes, our parents would make us bathe in rainwater. Oftentimes, though it's used for watering the flowers in our garden. 

Oh, how the years have gone by. Now, alone in the big city, I watch the rain from the comfort of my bedroom window. When it's closed, the rain drops would pitter-patter on my window pane. Very romantic, isn't it? Somehow, it reminds me of a scene in the movie, Lost in Translation. 

Time has a way of blurring the moments in our lives. At times, I tend to forget what it was like being young, carefree and secure in the home of my childhood. But life has a way of reminding you that moving on doesn't really mean you have to forget. Especially those photographs of a life in yesteryears dreaming, wishing and living for today.

Oh rain, you make me nostalgic. Once again, am transported back in time. But the most amazing thing is, the rain reminds me that indeed, some good things last -- family, friendships and love.