Rain was always my favorite. I found it to be comforting, just like others find sunshine to be comforting. Some of the best things happen in the rain. Cliched kisses. Families laughing as they scurry for shelter. The familiar "pitter-patter" as each drop hits a new surface. I associated rain with my fondest memories. Every time it rains, it's different to me. It's never the same rain. I suppose you could say it's one of the reasons I loved the rain so much. It's always changing. My love for rain started the day I was introduced to my little sister. When she was born, it was lightly raining in our city. Growing up, she always wanted me to splash around in the puddles outside with her. People in our neighborhood called us the "Rainy Day Girls." Anytime our city was graced with rain, she and I were outside in our raincoats.
Then she left.
Rain became a bad memory. Anything about the rain nearly made me vomit. Seeing it made the pit in my stomach worse. Hearing it made the tears burn behind my eyes. Every day I would start to despise the rain more and more. I began to associate it with the day she left. It was pouring rain. Something once bright, my most cherished memory, had turned bitter.858Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡxbvioRLfrn
