Bah Humbug to Academic Writing

Pitter patter is landing in the sky lights while I attempt to write a beyond drawn out assignment.

The rhythm of the rain.

The flashes of light and crack from the attic apartment flushes memories of rainstorms throughout my life, beginning with the storm windows on the second floor of the old refurbished barn house I spent the first few years of my life in. The rocking glider in this New York home would sway my sisters and I back and forth as the wind bellowed in. Safe under the exposed porch storms were always more intriguing than frightening…

Window watching from the attic

Window watching from the attic

Flash floods in New Mexico always brought a relief from the hot desert environment wetting the sand and hot rocks. Monsoon season in South Asia was bound to bring wet feet walking to and from places within the capitals, marching through the high flooded streets with wonder of what was floating beneath. The soaking rains of South America could hardly be avoided while ducking under oversized leaves, forcing one to subdue to its environment.

On this day these memories are carried with me as I listen from the attic. I watch the beauty of a show by the open windows, but found it to be drenching.

Lying in bed, the sky light spoke to my eyes in a plucking sound only encouraging my urges to get closer to the event. I slipped out of the cloud of a bed, out from its warmth and into a pair of high-wasted 80’s jeans. Finding the umbrella, I scurried down the flights of creaking stairs and stood in the rain on the side walk listening to it fall on the umbrella only inches from my ears. I reached my hand out to catch the droplets, each one piercing my skin with life.

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