comfortable storm

for first time since coming here i realized i fell asleep to the sound of rain and woke up to it. it’s that hard tropical rain. a rain that sounds heavier than western rain. the sound wraps around you and feels like it envelops you from all sides. its rain that you know is warm, but that would soak you to the bone immediately if you were to step outside into it.

i am lying in bed and watching the streaks on the windows. the morning twilight of a rainy dawn struggles to fill the room. the steady beat of the millions of drops falling together just outside my window push me back to sleep, coaxing me back to my dreams, the comfort and warmth of sub conscience. i lay, stretching my body and pulling the blankets closer for warmth while the demands of the day force me to open my eyes and concentrate on reality.

thunder is in the distance. the violence of the storm is away from me. barely heard as an echo, the rumbles getting further apart as i feel the reverberations in my head. the distance is too far to sense the flashes of lightening. they must be there but can not be felt from the comfort of my lonely bed.

it's time to throw the covers off and put my feet down on the icy tile flooring. the sensation of energy draining from my body through my feet, pulling the accumulated warmth of the night out of me is a daily reminder of the harsh transition between worlds.

i need to rush to the shower. if i can get my body under the temporary heat of the spray, feel the deep soothing warmth of the water spread through my skin, i can reclaim the energy sapped by the cold floor and start my day recharged, ready to take on the storm raging outside my window. ready to walk though the rain, feeling the drops beat their random symphony of white noise on the world around me. feeling the smallest percentage of drops touch my skin, while others come close but fall just short.

the shower water will be dried off, but the drops of rain will merge together, left to pool on the skin, tropical rain drops leaving streaks on my skin like the ones on the window. both barriers meant to protect the warm and dry insides from the wetness from outside. leaving trails of their passing, but not penetrating beyond the barrier.

it's time to get up.