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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1730336-Winter-Rain
Rated: E · Non-fiction · Emotional · #1730336
This is my grief, the sort of pain that seemed to increase every year.
         The slow rain seemed to chit chat with the earth as raindrops trickled down from my roof and the trees were rain-dancing with the breeze. Its winter and its raining. The weather in Bangalore is funny, but I love my city during the winter seasons. It is one of the most beautiful times of the year.

         It brings back so many fond memories from my childhood.The days which I spent reading so many books about snow falls, Christmas trees, rain deers and Santa. Now when I think about them they bring tears in my eyes. I often feel like I never should have grown up. Back then every thing in the world touched my curiosity, I used to enjoy everything I did and small simple things used to enchant me. But those days will never be back. Never.

         Now I know that moon is not a giant piece of silver colored cheese in the sky prepared by the chef in the heaven. I know that its not a giant mouse that eats it away little by little every night. But on the other hand I know that the moon is earth's satellite and is revolving around the earth at a distance of more than 380,000 km from the center of the earth and its just the earth's shadow on its surface which makes it change the size every night. Now I never wonder why the chef in heaven does not keep a pet cat to catch the menacing mouse. However the days I spent gazing in to the evening sky trying to catch a glimpse of the giant mouse which eats the cheese in the sky were far too better than the quick second I take to look at the calendar now.

         I sadly realize that no jolly-old-man will come riding on a sled pulled by flying rain-deers to bring me gifts on the Christmas eve for being a good boy for an entire year. I know that the world does'n care about me being a good or bad person.

         So here I am sitting inside my dingy apartment. With the blinds down in all the windows draped in the blanket. With a gloomy face. Instead of just running outside and dancing in the cold shover from heavens. Or just draw pictures on my fogy window pane with my finger tips and not caring about what the world might think. If only I could go back to those days !! If Only.
© Copyright 2010 Muneer P Mohammed (muneerpookot at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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