The Rain Comes Down

I woke up to the sound of rain pitter pat on the tin roof and on the ground, outside, with the smell of moisture floating in on the air. How glorious. I can't remember how long it has been since I woke up to that sound. The world washed clean, how fresh it smelt.

A cool breeze on my skin, it is nice to feel goose bumps again. The awful humidity has been pushed back, it's nice to feel freedom blowing in, now that the oppression has gone. We can do any thing now, now that we're not being beaten down every day, now that we're not being boiled into submission, exhaustion doesn't rule. Sweat isn't the prominent emotion.

I think I'll walk all the way into town, feeling the rain falling gently on my head.

I might even skip.