Today, in the middle of February
Out of no where, it rained in my hometown.
Not the kind of rain we wait for.
Not the monsoon.
Just an unexpected shower in what is supposed to be summer.
But….
Instead of feeling happy, I felt irritated.
Because rain meant delay.
It meant waiting.
It meant deciding whether to carry an umbrella or a raincoat.
It meant checking if I even had one.
I stood there thinking about all the small inconveniences it was about to bring.
And then all of a sudden,
It happened.
The scent of wet earth.
That familiar smell the rain carries with it — subtle, but impossible to ignore. It reached me like a quiet reminder.
For a moment, I was no longer annoyed.
I was somewhere else.
Back in my school days.
Back to a time when rain no longer used to be an interruption, but an event.
When we waited for dark clouds with hope. When getting wet wasn’t a problem — it was the plan. When falling sick felt worth it if it meant skipping school the next day.
We didn’t check the forecast.
We didn’t think about schedules.
We didn’t worry about shoes getting dirty.
We just ran.
And standing there today, I wondered — what happened to that version of me?
Somewhere between growing up, earning degrees, and building careers, we became more responsible. More careful. More prepared.
Smarter, perhaps.
But maybe also a little distant from the simple things.
The rain hasn’t changed.
That scent hasn’t changed.
Only our response has.
Maybe growing up is not about losing joy.
Maybe it’s about forgetting to pause long enough to notice it.
Today, the rain reminded me of that.
And perhaps the next time it rains — instead of checking the clock — I’ll just be there.
Sit and breathe it in.
And maybe enjoy it with a cup of tea!