Rain and Endurance

Rainy mornings are meant to be spent sitting in a quaint little cafe sipping hot, aromatic coffee. Alone. Thinking.

Doing just that this morning, while “Stand by me” played in the background, I tried reminiscing. Couldn’t. Couldn’t remember anything that I was trying to. I wanted to play a rerun of memories in my head. Couldn’t. All I could think of was now. The cappuccino. The delectable quiche. The sublime rain. The lilting music.

Perhaps, after a while, you learn to push back memories to the back of your heart, and they stay there. Lurking but silent.

Pain doesn’t die. It just turns cold. Like a volcano turns to rock eventually. When that happens, you know you’ve come a long way. When you can spend one beautiful morning with yourself just being in the present, you know you’ve come far.

Perhaps it was endurance. Perhaps it was the rain.

I often wonder about the rain. A wonder it indeed is, to me. How it manages to make me smile. How it manages to calm my restless mind. I often wonder about endurance too.  I wonder if it is a name for the art of learning to conceal your wounds.

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