The Power of Rain
I gasped as the rain dripped down my back. Some would say that rain was a bad omen; some would say that rain made the day miserable. But me? For me, rain is my life. Rain is what keeps me going. Whilst some may look out of the window and groan like wilting flowers as they see the clear crystals pelting from the clouds, but me? When I see the rain, I smile so hard I feel my cheeks burning; but what do I care? It's raining!
Today was not unlike any other day. I had opened my bedroom curtains - fingers, toes, eyes, arms and legs crossed - hoping with all my might that it might be raining, that I might be able to feel the petting of the droplets again.
My prayers seemed to speak to the skies. Outside within seconds, I squelched barefoot through the sodden field, letting the watery mud ooze through my toes. I leapt and skipped in the puddles, letting the heavenly, salty tears of the sky wash the dirt from my skin. Looking up into the sky, I stretched my mouth in a gleeful laugh, drinking in
I sat in the music room, waiting. Miss was late - again. I still wait for the day String Group will ever begin on time. Cellos at the ready, I chatted to my friend, obscuring my thoughts with a mask of interest. Inside, I felt a mingled concoction of dread and hope infect my consentration, taking over every part of my brain. 'Please come, please come ...', I begged silently, crossing my fingers. I shook my leg, as I always do when I am nervous or worried. It wasn't until I heard the door creak open that I breathed a sigh of relief.
He had come. He hadn't missed it. If he had, it wouldn't have been until the next Wednesday before I could see him again. I grinned at him as he entered the room, receiving a smile in return that melted my heart.
"Do you think it's worth it to get my cello out?" he asked, dropping his bag to the floor.
"Dunno," I answered. "Miss is taking longer than usual."
He shrugged, just as some of his friends from his form walked in. 'So much for conversation,' I thoug