The rain had stopped. It poured for a few hours one late afternoon in September. I watched through a cracked, glass window, drops streaking my view of the earth into something I have not seen before. Details became blurred as colors heightened into shapes of circles and squares.
I was reading a book, one I have read over ten times. It's permanently stuck in my brain of a memory that is not my own. And yet, it's comfort for when times get hard and I'm left in a panic.
Rain has never been my favorite weather. I don't like getting my hair wet unless I absolutely must. Dancing in the rain has never been something that brings me joy. I'm overthinking how wet I am instead of being in the moment of feeling water fall onto my exposed face and limbs.
The book is about a girl who finds bits and pieces of herself in other people. She takes and molds her personality into whoever she's with. She does this because she doesn't know who she is or what she wants. So she drifts along shores and through different lives, looking and searching for what isn't there. In reality, she doesn't sit still because she's afraid of what she'll have to acknowledge when she does.
The autumn leaves are beginning to transition. Magnificant colors are floating above, sprinkled with water from the rain. The universe is a magical mystery in how the seasons bring new visuals for the eyes to gaze at and cameras to capture. This is my favorite season, for the changing colors, remind me how beautiful change can be.
This book is like a warm blanket on a cloudy day. For me, it's a reminder that everyone has something going on in their lives that they have to deal with. Though I cannot relate to the protagonist, I feel for this young woman. She's a mystery to herself and that ought to be a particular way of living. Falling into things without thinking and not letting people in because she can't let her own self in without destroying everything in her path. It's fascinating.
It's never easy but embracing change, which you really cannot control, is a healthier way of dealing with things. Comfort is a false notion that safety is always present. Because it's not and you must be able to ride the waves instead of being drifted back into the deep sea.
I guess what I love about this story is what I hate about rain and love about autumn. This young woman won't embrace herself until the last page when she realizes she might actually look into the mirror and see what has become of who she is. I don't like the feel of rain but I admire the look of it. And the smell of everything being cleansed once more. Details come back into view through the cracked window. Falling leaves drift off the trees and floating through the air, away they go!
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