Rare Anger
Lately, I can’t even remember why I hate the rain so much. Once in a while I tried to recall it, the hatred. I thought there’s none of it left in me. But who am I kidding, today it all came back to me at once. And now I remember, it’s always a train of silly misfortunes that begin with a pouring rain.
The rain stopped. Everything seemed fine.
It took half an hour for me to hail a ride. My chest burns, knowing the brand new pristine white trousers I wore was about to get splattered by mud along the road. And it broke my heart to remember that the soup must have had turned cold waiting at the security post. I calculated the arrival timing when I ordered the food, for God’s sake.
As if being punished by the universe, not even half way home, the rain started to pour again, cats and dogs.
When I arrived, I looked at my arum green flat shoes. I got drenched from head to toe. I didn’t know why it suddenly hurts so much realizing that I have been always coming home to no one. And even in bad days, I was always fine. How ironic, that the same annoying rain washed away my tears as I walked home hugging my dinner. Then I threw it across the hall, the very beautiful shoes I wore on my engagement. I didn’t know why I was so angry.
Perhaps in that moment, I let out all of my anger towards everything and everyone that I love. The long overdue rare anger that I have been sealing for them. For not being there when I thought they will, for not picking up that as hard as life hit them, behind my cheerful tone, I found it as much hard too. And I was so sorry for carrying such ugly emotion for them that I sobbed while washing the poor flat in the shower.
The rain has once again stopped. And once again everything seemed fine.
I took out the soup from the wet plastic bag. It was magically still warm.
