I miss you

I am listening to this old song "Summer Rain" and begin to realize that I miss it. The rain. I miss the rain. All kinds of rain. The slight drizzle. The powerful downpour. Even the violent thunderstorms with lightning and flooding. Miss the sound of it. Quietly first, just a few drops, knocking lightly on your window, softly thumping on the roof. Then more, stronger, louder. Just for a short time during the day. The whole day, or at night, waking you up at first but then, like a lullaby with a consistent, beautiful rhythm, humming you back to sleep.

I miss the smell. How the air smells right before the rain starts. The smell of the trees, flowers, dusty streets, and dirty cars, empty river beds and lakes, impatiently waiting, longing for the first drops to fall, the downpour to nourish, clean, and refill them. Quench their thirst, end their suffering, satisfy their desperate need for water. The smell of the rain that is about to fall on all of them. The threat and promise of water. Of life. 

The smell when it is raining. The smell you soak in while your nose is tickling from the drops that fell on it, tiny bubbles of fresh water, caught in those tiny hairs on your skin. The freshness of the first drops, mixed with the dust and dirt in the air. 

The smell after the rain. The smell of freshly washed linen sheets. Clean, new, full of life. The smell of trees who inhale deeply and stretch themselves into the air, full of new energy. Full of life. Flowers, still covered in transparent pearls of water, like little diamonds, gently lifting their heads and stretching their limbs. Feeling reinvigorated. You can almost see them smile. Hear their happy laughter. Smell their relief.

I miss the feeling of rain on my skin. Drops falling gently on my face, stroking my cheeks, my lips. The feeling of slowly getting soaked. My hair, strand after strand. My clothes, reluctant at first, even resistant for a while, give in eventually and let the water through to touch my skin. The softness of rain water. Feeling like the flower and the tree. Even the feeling of it hitting me hard, when I didn't manage to find shelter fast enough to protect me from the heavy pour. Finally, rain. Water. Life. 

I miss you, rain. So much, like I never thought I would. Please come back soon, will you!

The Good

This beautiful planet is a home for several billion human beings. Every single one of them born unique, special, precious, and good. No one is born a murderer, terrorist, religious nut, dictator, greedy capitalist or politician. Everyone of us has so much potential to grow up to make this planet, our home, a good or even better place. 

And so many of us do. We take care of people who cannot take care of themselves. We share what we have with others who have less or nothing. We love others without expecting anything in return. We protect each other from harm. We gladly die for one another if necessary. We are there for one another, whenever needed. For friends, relatives, lovers, but also strangers, people we have never met before. 

That is our human, loving, compassionate nature. It develops and grows because it is nurtured through a loving and caring upbringing. Many times even in the absence of such circumstances. Because good is what we are born to be.

Let's not forget all of this while facing hateful, horrible acts done by humans, out of hatred and unreason, following leaders who find it easier to let their people die of hunger or fighting their wars instead of providing for them, grow and develop them into the humans they were born to be.

Let us focus on what is good in all of us and withstand those who turned against the good for whatever reasons. All good in this world, no matter what color, belief, or origin is so much more powerful than the bad can ever be. As long as we know that and maintain and grow the good in ourselves and others, the bad will never be able to prevail.