The Moonstruck Columns

The First Rain

The bus ride that day was the longest one she’d ever taken. She knew there was no going back home and texting him that she had reached safely. And to make matters worse, she couldn’t get the air-conditioned bus, which she always used to take and it started pouring as she waited. She didn’t carry an umbrella and got drenched. She hated getting wet.

“It makes my hair like a rug” she’d frown and complain to anyone who’d listen as she wrung her hair dry. Today it was different. She let them be the way they were. She was unusually silent. Perhaps, still trying to make sense out of it all.

The window of the bus was a mist which shone the lights into enormous colourful circles. How had she not noticed them before. Oh, she hated the rain, she remembered suddenly.

“The rain always makes your hair look like a rug and wet clothes make you look so dull” his voice rung inside her head followed by a laughter that wasn’t her’s. It was a bit odd because it should’ve been her own voice, shouldn’t it? A slight frown appeared on her brow that she wasn’t aware of and people were too occupied to notice.

Now that she thought about it, the millions of paper boats that she had sailed when she was a kid wasn’t so bad. She remembered how she used to wait for the rain just because the tub in her bathroom was too small for her boats. She loved sailing them to the uncharted. She loved the fact that she didn’t know where her boats went.

She traced her finger nonchalantly on the mist on the window of the bus against the droplets on the other side which flickered the lights as they passed. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d noticed them. She couldn’t remember the last time she didn’t notice herself smile.

Maybe going home without the apprehension of the next day wasn’t such a bad thing after all.

She pulled the little black handle to open the window and she received the spray of rain and wind on her face along with some bewildered glances from the people around. But she didn’t care. The fresh fragrance of the first rain took her away. She liked the way her hair was. Maybe someday somebody will come along who’d love her hair regardless. Maybe it was better that way. Maybe the bus ride wasn’t so long after all. Maybe this first rain would start many other first flings with things she’d overlooked. Who could tell…


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