She loves sitting in the car on a rainy day. She loves to watch the rain pitter and patter down the windshield. She chooses a droplet and follows its track, down and to the left and to the right until it hits the bottom of the windshield. Sometimes, when it rains a little heavier, the droplet merges with another, and another one until it becomes a steady stream. She doesn’t like tracing those. She loves the solitary droplet, just making its way through a maze of other somewhat similar raindrops. I don’t know why she likes tracing single droplets and not streams. Maybe because she’s not unlike a solitary droplet. Always alone and always dodging what comes next.
On other days, when droplets don’t grab her attention, she just closes her eyes and listens to the faint sound of raindrops landing on the car. When she feels like it, she taps the dashboard in rhythm with the sound of the falling rain. She loves the rain but I can’t understand why. However, I love looking at her when she’s like this.
There’s no conflict. No thought, no hesitation to it. When it rains, she foregoes everything else. No masks, no walls, no hiding. She’s no more that girl who rushes from here to here, who closes off at the sign of trouble. There’s no more apprehension; she’s just a child innocently chasing raindrops.
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