Memoirs of an Amnesiac

I don't remember the last time I bathe in the rain. It must have been eons ago. I have probably grown an uncalled for aversion to it. It used to be that I would almost pray for it to come (to the chagrin of kids who like singing, "Rain, rain, go away. Come again another day..."). I liked it when my clothes get all too soaked up in the rain while I tiptoe on water puddles and wait for under those bursts of heavy water from the roof drainage, pretending that it is my own bathroom shower.

Now, I dislike the rain (probably because of the many things it reminds me of), and sometimes I abhor its quiet yet persistent drizzles. Allegorically, the rain represents a lot of things for me (all products of my too-introspective mind). Unpredictability, memories (far too great to let go), inconvenience, struggles, setbacks. The rain brings with it gloominess, something I can't control no matter how much I try to.

I remembered having written a poem about the rain. The first few lines say,

It has been days since it last rained
I don't understand why sometimes it rains,
Sometimes, it doesn't
For mine only comes at night
When the leaves of memory forever rustle in the wind.

Yes, I have come to associate the rain with the memories that I have been having a hard time shrugging off. It will a take a while before I'll grow immune to them. But I have also realized they will become a part of me (forever).

Lately, I have devised a way to at least lessen the pain. Whenever I see the rain, I would wish for a rainbow. Just days ago, it rained. I sat on the chair next to the window, trying to finish the book I was reading and at the same time, anticipating the rainbow that would eventually appear. None came.

I won't worry. I know the whole summer will be filled with rainy days (says PAG-ASA). I will make sure I will be seated next to my window again, anticipating for another sighting of the rainbows that have become elusive now.

I will be firm in my resolve that even when life is a sky filled with rain, a rainbow appears right after.