I am standing by the window, gazing at the rain outside, so charming and so sophisticated.
I am too young to understand the rain outside, I think.My mom has told me to stay inside, "because it's good for you." Good for me? Oh, I have been raised with the phrase echoing in my ears all the time. I learned from the worry in mama's eyes and I nodded. I am always a good boy.
But look at the rain! It comes from so high a place! Isn't it amazing? Where does it come from? Why is it here? Does she know I'm wacthing her dancing so tenderly and so beautifully? Does she know I'm wondering with her and imagining I were with her, like an angle from the sky? Does she come to greet me or bring me stories from a bland-new world? Is she actually a genius inviting me to join her?
The rain is laughing happily and freely,like a child. I heard it!
I am also a child in others' eyes. But why can't I laugh like the rain? The rain continues to knock on the glass and my heart beats with the rhythm of the rain.
A hand lands on my shoulder and I hears a gentle voice,"My boy, go.Don't stand here or you'll catch a cold."
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