The Rain is Beautiful

a story about regrets, forgiveness, and letting go

The Rain is Beautiful

It's raining again today. I've always hated the rain. It was raining when my father left. It was raining when my mother and brother died in a car accident. And it was raining when I first experienced a broken heart.

Now, it was raining again. I think the rain hates me as much as I hate it. All the bad things in my life happen when it's raining. Today's no different. I woke up at 7:00 AM and it takes 30 minutes to travel to university. My first class is at 7:30, Philosophy of the Human Person. I guess no breakfast for me today then, again. 

I'm currently walking to school now with 5 minutes to spare. I pass by the library and see this random girl sitting under the pine tree just a tad close to the abandoned school building across my class building. It was raining and the girl seemed to not mind. I don't know why but there's something about her that just draws me in. Maybe it was her pale face or maybe it was her closed eyes as she let the rain hit her face. I can't help it. So, I approached her.

I just stood beside her. I wanted to say something but I don't want to disturb her. There was some sort of peaceful vibe around her that just makes you want to sit and watch. I can't help but smile, a sad one. A sad one because then, she opened her eyes and looked at me, with a gentle yet sad smile. It was the same sad smile that I often see in the mirror when I look at myself and it was raining. 

I was deep in thought when I heard her call me.
"Hi," she said.
"Hi," I replied.
"Mind if I sit with you?" I asked her.
"Yeah, go ahead," was her reply.

We just sat there. Under the pine tree. Looking at the gloomy weather that seems to reflect our inner gloom.

"I'm Lizzie," I introduced myself with my right hand poised for a handshake. She looked at me, especially my eyes, seeking something.  She must have found what she was looking for because then, she took my hand and squeezed it gently, saying, "I'm Lea, nice to meet you." 

"Why are you here?" I asked.
"No reason really. I just wanted to feel the rain. It calms me," she said.
"Really? I hate the rain," I told her.
"Why?" she asked.
"It's because the rain seems to bring nothing but pain and sadness to me," I replied.
"No..." She said.
"What do you mean, no?" I clarified.
"Don't blame the rain for the bad things. It's not the rain's fault," she told me.
"How can you be so sure? Ever since I was little, it was always raining when things become rough for me or my loved ones," I reasoned.
She then looked at me and said, "No, you know that's not true. The rain is not the problem. It's not the rain that is making you sad. It's the bad memories and the pain that you associate with it. Don't shackle yourself to your pain. Learn to let go, and then, look up again. You'll realize that the rain is beautiful and that it can help wash away your pain. The world is beautiful. Let go, and be free. Be happy."

I was silent after that. Deep inside, I know that I'm just blaming the rain because I couldn't let go of the past. I couldn't accept the circumstances. I just couldn't. But, her words made me realize. It's been years since my father left. It's been years since my mother and brother died. And that broken heart has long been mended. So, why can't I let go? Is it just my stubbornness?   

I looked at Lea. I searched her eyes, her entire face for any clue. I want to let go, but I'm not sure if I should. She looked at me, and she smiled. This time, her smile was full of hope and warmth. It was the same smile my mother used to give me.

I closed my eyes, nodded and said, "Okay. I'll try. I'll try really hard." I opened my eyes and turned to look at her again. I was surprised because she was no longer there. I looked at the place where she was sitting. There, I saw a lone azalea bud. I touched it, and I'm not sure if it was just my imagination, but I heard a very faint "Thank you, darling" murmuring with the wind.

I looked up at the sky with the rain hitting my face mixing with the tears running down my eyes. For the first time, in a long time, I smiled a happy smile and laughed. Lea. Azalea. My mother's favorite flower.