Here Comes The Rain Again

"What's that?" I hear you say, "This is supposed to be an open letter to something you love!" That's correct, and rain is indeed something I love. Which is fortunate, being British and all.

Dearest Rain,

I fear language will fail me. How can words describe the depth of my feeling for you? How can I properly express my extreme fondness for you?

We've been lucky enough to share so many good times together. Do you remember how I missed you when I lived in Italy? How my heart yearned to see you again? And, when you eventually arrived, with a gloriously heavy downpour and deafening rumbles of thunder, how I frolicked happily, giggling like a schoolgirl, through the gridlocked traffic in Piazza Repubblica?

Now I'm back in the UK, we see each other far more often than we once did. I feel I've grown close to you again, regardless of that year we spent apart. Even now, as temperatures begin to rise and that pesky Sun begins to peek through the clouds, I know in my heart that the Great British Summer will not tear us apart. Au contraire, you'll make a number of unexpected, out of the blue appearances that will fill me with joy and keep me happy until winter rolls around and we can get better acquainted again.

You understand me, you do. How could you not, after such a long friendship? I'm amazed that whenever I feel down, your grey, threatening clouds reflect my mood and - on the rare occasion that happiness seizes me - how your playful little raindrops bounce merrily off the pavement, sparkling and glittering in reflected light. I know you're not at the top of everybody's guest list, but I don't care about that. You're at the top of mine. I've never been one to worship the popular kid - everybody raves about how great the Sun is, and I don't get it. I'll always root for you - the underdog, the unappreciated.

And that just about sums you up doesn't it, Rain? You're unappreciated. All the good that you do - you make plants grow, rivers flow, my hair look cool. Sure, you've ruined the odd pair of jeans - and there was that time I wore converses with holes in and had to dry out my socks on the hand drier at work. But what's one small blip, one tiny, insignificant misunderstanding in a lifetime of happiness?

It's nothing, that's what it is. While you, my friend, are everything.

As always, I wish you the best and wait with anticipation for our next meeting.

Yours truly,

Tom