The rain was here. As usual, she comes and goes when she wants. Sometimes, she comes like a gentle whisper, and yet, her soft, ambient echo drowns out every other sound that clamors for my attention. When she steals upon me this way, she brings her moment of tranquility, as if she is here not to stir the earth, but to calm its chaos, to soothe my restless soul. 
Sometimes, she pounces in torrential downpour, battering restlessly, forcefully on the roof and window, so insistent that I imagine her heavy raindrops, vigorously tapping my face, the cold wetness seeping through me, her icy fingers invading my skin, a moment that makes me grateful I have a home where I feel safe and warm. A moment of gratitude, as if she is here to remind me of my good fortune.
How is it so that through the curtain of water, my vision is not blurred, but I see clearly - her purpose here is not merely to nourish the earth.

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