written & illustrated by Chakriya PHOU
edited by Ryan Paine
The rain came without waiting for me to open the umbrella. It was nature.
I wanted to run but my long skirt slowed my running speed. From next day, I would change to wear knee length, A-line skirt.
The rain did not stop. It became stronger and stronger.
In front of me, it was raining. Behind me, it was raining. Above my head, it was raining too. So, why did I have to run?
I slowed down my speed to one foot-step per second. Walking like this, I would get less mud on my skirt, I would be saved from slipping and I would not get exhausted.
At this period, I was busy watching the view along the road while it was raining.
Leaves fell from the tree, spilling on the street. Before the rain, the street was noisy: cars, motorbikes, bicycles, cyclos and tuk tuks competed on the road. When the rain came, they disappeared.
On this street, there was only the sound of falling rain.
If we listen carefully to the rain, we can find many types of music from the same rain drops. If we listen to the rain with our ears, we will hear Jazz music. If we listen with our mind, we will hear tango. If we use heart to listen, we will hear slow rock.
I put my hand out from under the umbrella. The drops of rain fell into my palm. It was cool and pure.
I stopped. I closed the umbrella.
The rain dropped on me with no mercy, but I was happy with it. I was not afraid of rain anymore. I smiled. I stepped forward. My left hand held the dangling umbrella. I shook it and shook my head, following the rhythm of a song in my head.
I arrived home when the rain had stopped. I left umbrella open and put it on the floor to dry. Then I went into bathroom to change cloth.