How much do you adore rain? If you love the sound, smell, touch of it, then you are a pluviophile.
I love rain. Or used to love it. Rain reminds me of my house in Halim, where I spent my babyhood, childhood till adulthood. I used to sit on the porch when it was raining. Watching the water wetting my parents’ various plants. It smelled good. I found the sound really calming. When it was raining big enough, my brothers and I would run to the garden and play in the rain until it was too cold. We would only stop when my grandma was in our house. She would force us to come inside the house, shower us with warm water, and make us drink a glass of honey-mixed water.
Now, there is no Halim house and my grandma has passed away. The rain stays still. It is just not the same rain. My 11yo son already refuses to play in the rain. He knows about acid rain. I am so sorry he knew too much in such an early age that he misses all the fun.
Now, I have to try harder to still love the rain. The traffic jam, flood, allergic reaction it brings seem to diminish its fun. And as I am writing now, I am sitting in the bus soaking wet after 40 minutes waiting for the bus in the middle of the rain. The bus isn’t going anywhere, though. The traffic has stopped it for 30 minutes.