Most of the time, I love the rain.
I love running down to the beach and basking in the magnificence of a downpour. There is something so wonderful about the feel of sand underfoot and water rushing over your face, especially at night.
Thunder storms are even more glorious. I love that moment, the shortest nanosecond that lasts so long, when time stands still and then, as though responding to the build up of your anticipation, thunder claps and lightning lights up the sky.
You know it’s coming when the waves still and the sound and smell of the night envelops you. And then it’s there. You’re part of the storm and the night and the world.
Sometimes, though, my relationship with the rain is less miraculous, particularly if I’m walking home from the supermarket.
Then, it’s just cold and wet.