The Perfect Weather

The rain fell slowly, dancing in the air before it landed on the trees and on the rest of London.

You can barely call it rain.

Drizzling, it was a light as snow, and caressed my skin,

reminiscent of your soft touch.

It was the perfect kind of rain, the perfect kind of weather, my favourite type of a weather.

I used to love rain, especially when I was back home – there was smog everywhere. The concrete city was filled with tired men and women in suits, slaving away to their 9-to-8 jobs. It was also filled with gas from the exhaust pipes of the over-expensive and completely unnecessary sports cars. The rain seemed to be the only way to cleanse the city of the pollution, the sadness and the stress.

For a moment, everyone looked up.  The sea of heads was replaced by a sea of colourful umbrellas. For a moment it was nice, it was clean, and I was happy.

Here in London, there were no heavy hearts where I was walking, only rows of trees and old English houses on either side of the road. I walked past the old St.Pancras Church admiring the small but elegant building.

The droplets continued to dance. The rain cooled down the excited and busy city and for a moment, there was calmness.

For a moment, I felt something that I haven’t felt in a long time: things are going to be okay. There was happiness, there was peace. Even if it was just for a moment.

Time has past, seasons have changed and so have we. But at least I have the memories of yesterday. I don’t know what the future holds for me, but at least I have the present. Right now I have a lot of things and I am grateful for all of them. At the very least I am grateful to have crossed paths with those who I’ve met in my journeys thus far.

The rain fell slowly, dancing in the air before it landed on the trees and on the rest of London.

It was the perfect weather. :)

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