it is raining now at 2.28am.

the rain has come to mean different things for me throughout the years. when I stayed at Neptune court while I was still 6 and below, I remember the wind howling as the storms raged on and on at sea. the thunder used to scare me (as loud booms are wont to do) but I never knew much of the beauty in the wildness or knew to look out of the yellow-railed balcony to watch the storm approaching. perhaps I was too little and I couldn’t see very far. the only thing I remember looking out from is the window of the room I used to share with my brother when the tires screeched and skidded and I would rush to the window in anticipation of the imminent crash to follow. it was the ecp just below which I only know now to be beautiful and dangerous.

there were times when it was plain wet and others which made bubbles come out of Qing’s shoes and splash splash the puddles laughing admidst the grey and red and the pouring rain drying on our pinafolds under the hairdryer and socks held out like scarcrows left right left right in the drama theatre watching ‘City of Gold’.

shedding brown prom heels running home barefooted while buckets poured coming home from work delighting in the feel of asphalt on my bare soles

borrowing umbrellas and hiking to SKS on a valentine’s day… rain and books and reminder of the sprinkles on Ophir – a mark of grace, none other

than a particular night out on the ecp stuck under dripping trees, keiko sleeping, petrol greenish-yellow, my mistake and me laughing away

for the rain spells of grace as it falls its brief life in the air an exhilarating fall from a height if one could float one could fly and one could fall…