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Sunday Morning Rain

It’s raining outside. Sad I missed my Sunday morning run.

I woke up early to the harmony of the sounds of my phone alarm beside me and of the pitter-pattering of a gentle pour outside. Oh no! —I thought. No run today. Sunday and Wednesday mornings are my run days. The cool October morning breeze softly hitting your face, air-brushing your hair… wait, I don’t have hair. Anyways, you know what I mean. That, I’d miss today —the run, not the hair. I didn’t mind, though.

I stayed a bit longer in bed ‘til daylight penetrated through our window curtains. Going back to sleep was no longer an option —I was already wide awake. I went downstairs after a few, started the coffee machine and like a little child I once was, I went out to watch the rain.

Rain reminds me of my happy childhood days in Bataan. Watching and listening to it pour its might from our terrace comforted me. I wasn’t a lonely child or bullied or suffering from anything that I needed comfort, it just felt that way.

Rain memoirs also bring me back to the song by Jose Feliciano:

Listen to the pouring rain
Listen to it pour,
And with every drop of rain
You know I love you more

Let it rain all night long
Let my love for you grow strong,
As long as we’re together
Who cares about the weather?

Listen to the falling rain
Listen to it pour
And with every drop of rain,
I can hear you call,

Call my name right out loud,
I can hear above the clouds
And I’m here among the puddles
You and I together huddle.

Now, these memories, a bowl of heated leftover pasta, a donut and a cup of aromatic coffee, I’m not sad anymore. Have a fantastic Sunday!

If you’ve been touched, amused, or entertained by this post, or it put a smile on your face, please favor me with a cup of coffee. I will continue writing.

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