Winter Romance

Rain patters down on the plastic roof outside the window. The breeze comes through the slats, fresh and delicious, bearing with it a smell of clean, sweet moisture. The sounds of the street are slightly muted, everything growing hushed in the soft rain. Even buses, with their monstrous thundering and their creaking halts, sound soft and polite as the drops come down lightly from the wispy gray clouds.

As the drizzle grows into a rain, the light seems brighter, more cheery. The small comforts of home – the sweatshirt flung on the back of the chair, the cat curled up in a ball on the couch – become more cozy and endearing by far. Even as the rain turns into a respectable downpour, the home becomes the perfect nest, wonderfully familiar, all of it softer around the edges somehow.

If only the rain could go on all night, it would accompany the soft light of the reading lamp and the soft rustle of pages as they are lovingly turned in their spine. A rain of this sort can only herald the sweetest and most comfortable of sleeps. If only it would go on all night.

But alas, all good things come to an end, and quickly, all too quickly, the autumn rain disappears, leaving behind it a comforting memory, a slight shiver of joy and a disappointed girl, who wanted to stay up all night reading with the rain.

Good Ole’ Fashioned Genuine, Corny Joy

The wind picked up, stirring loose hairs and chilling bare arms. The merest trace of a forgotten scent was in the air, blowing up and around and through the streets. The light of the half moon dwindled as clouds settled in the night sky. Dark and ominous they were, and yet still the harbingers of joy.

The first drop was dismissed as anything but rain. For rain it couldn’t yet be, not at the end of September. Fall could not have come so quickly to the hot and stifling cities. The second drop, and then the third, fourth and fifth were sweet, for they could not be ignored, could not be mere spray from some unknown spout.

The clouds seemed to groan and sigh with relief as they let themselves break open and spray the dry streets with rain, the first rain. They did not relent and disappear quickly, but stayed for an hour or more, sending small and icy drops down onto the unwary people.

The wonderful moist, wet scent brought tears to my eyes and joy to my heart. Winter is coming, I told myself. Winter is coming.