Rayne.

When it rains, you pull out your umbrella and shade yourself from the pitter-patter of the raindrops as you walk under the shower of the little droplets of water, hoping you'll get home without any splotches and wet patches on your clothing. You hurry along, praying that you won't get soaked to the bone. At least the umbrella would serve as some sort of a protection as you go about your way, racing against the wind to get back to the warmth of your home and fluffy towels to dry yourself off.

When it rains, you snuggle into bed and cuddle your favorite stuff toy. The rain outside makes your bed a little cosier to wriggle in, it makes you want to close your eyelids as you listen to the raindrops hitting against your window, it makes you want to forget about everything for just that moment and revel in the peacefulness of being secure in your room, while a storm blasts outside.

When it rains, you're consciously aware of how you do not want to get your clothes wet, especially when it's white. You feel more vulnerable, more translucent to the stranger's eyes, and therefore, you hide yourself under your bright yellow color raincoat, making sure every button is in its rightful place. You curse yourself again for wearing white, but then again, nothing in the weather spelled rain when you looked out your window that morning.

When it rains, you turn up the volume on your iPod a little more, frowning in annoyance when you miss the favorite part of your song when thunder and lighting decided to have a booming match to see who's louder than the other. You look up from your book and stare at the raindrops, making swirly patterns on your glass window, watching as it slowly weaves a path down, blending with the other raindrops, flowing into oblivion. You get bored of the scene in front of you and go back to your book, but not before taking one last glance at the raindrops, so simple in its nature, yet so enchanting and mesmerizing all the same.

When it rains, you watch as the world outside your home transform into a drenched, sodden land as the rain pounds relentlessly on to nimble, fragile leaves and the wind howls around the shaking limbs of a little spruce. But then, it gets you wondering how they are able to survive through it all. Through being incessantly struck by the ceaseless rain fall, through the gusty blasts of the merciless wind. How those brittle things could withstand something so unyielding, really had me saluting them in my mind. But then you began to realize that it's the rain that helps them grow, that helps that little spruce to grow and become a strong and sturdy tree. It helps them become bigger than they would ever be.

When it rains, you think of how cooling the air would be later, you think of the puddles of water formed in potholes would be fun to jump around in, you think of how vibrantly colorful everything would look after the downpour. How cars become shinier and the bright smile of people upon seeing that the rain has stopped. How everything seem to take on a cheerful disposition following the aftermath of a gloomy weather.

Then you think of the sun shining through the clouds after the onslaught of rain, and suddenly, you're wholly thankful for the rain. Because of what it entails as the last drop of it splashes onto the pavement. Because after the rain, we can always look out for the rainbow arching overhead, promising a brand new day ahead.

We'll always look out for that rainbow, after the rain.