This reminds me of the first time I actually ‘experienced’ a thunderstorm as a child. I was a little over 7 years old, and had been playing in the back garden quietly, with dolls and imaginary friends alike. Augusts in Lahore are monsoon months, with heavy rain coming down at unexpected moments. Before I knew it, I was caught in a shower.
For a minute, I didn’t react. Rain was something I hadn’t felt before. To be alone in the middle of a walled garden with rain pattering around me, was well, a fairytale of sorts for me. I remember sitting there, getting drenched quite willingly, and feeling the happiest I’ve ever felt. To this day, I’ve loved rain. A rainy day makes me ecstatic, to say the least.
Anyway, coming back to the childhood memory, I sat there in the downpour until it got dark. And then something else happened. I saw lightning and heard thunder, until my heart was pounding. And still I didn’t move. For some reason, I didn’t go inside, and learned not to be scared of thunderstorms right there and then. Rain reminds me of that memory and the smell of the earth and how independently happy I felt there. Wherever I am, I’ll always be happy in the rain, in water slicked soil…and the more thunder, the better.