Rainy Days

​I woke up this morning to what sounded like fingertips tapping on my bedroom window. The touch is just ever so light and reminds me of the soft murmur of a human heart. I slip out from under the heavy covers and walk over to my window. Pulling back the curtains I notice to my amazement that it is raining. Rain in mid-February? Most unusual.

The sky is grey, but not a dark menacing grey like the kind you see in movies which pre-exists imminent danger. This sky is the type which appears just before the big storm. It is perfect, with no sign of any invading lightning or threatening thunder. The rain itself is just right – not too heavy nor too light. It drums a rhythmic beat against my window, entrancing my mind and soothing the depths of my soul. It is so calming, so peaceful, and so harmless.

For me, rainy days are all the more enjoyable on the days when I would be all alone in the house. The lights would all be turned off, radios and televisions unplugged, and the house would be in complete silence. Curled up on the couch with the blanket tucked neatly around my legs, I would read my favourite book with a roaring fire going to keep me warm. The blinds would be open so I could both see and hear the rain as it fell on the deck and windows. The sky would be completely grey, but there would still be enough light by which I could read my book without the aid of an electrical innovation. While I read I would be able to hear the echo of the rain on the roof which sounds as though someone was up there tap dancing in celebration of this natural phenomenon. 

It is truly amazing how something so natural can be the best remedy for a troubled mind. 

I let the curtain fall back into place and crawl back under the still warm covers. I just lay there, not exactly falling asleep but only listening to the steady beat of the rain against the window. It is so soothing, so comforting, like a lullaby a mother sings to her children to get them to sleep after they have woken up from a nightmare. The moment reminds me of when I got caught out in the rain during a passing storm in the summer months of last year.

The air was heavy; a burden weighing heavily upon my shoulders filled with the decisions we make and problems which have yet to be solved. The atmosphere is thick with the morning dew. The neighbourhood remained undisturbed as the dark sky began to lighten. No sign of life, human or animal, is to be seen amongst the motionless streets. 

Then the rain had begun to fall; soft and slow at first but harder and faster with every passing minute. I remember the rain was warm as it fell onto the rapidly damping pavement and thirsty grass leaves. The rain was a peaceful presence amongst the trees; a soft whisper that gently caressed the boughs and rustled the fluttering leaves.

With every drop the rain seemed to wash away the heavy burdens, the decisions, and the depressing mood which surrounds the newly awakened neighbourhood. It rinsed away those time consuming facts into the sewers and cleansed the streets so as to begin the day, and in some part our lives, anew.

I had welcomed the falling rain and closed my eyes to enjoy the soothing touch. I felt my spirit rise as the cleansing begun, and all my troubles were washed away down into the ground with the rest of the worlds.

Nature is so perfect, I thought as I lay there listening. It is the most euphoric experience in the world. It can calm and soothe the most savage of beasts, temper the most violent of emotions, and it is completely mesmerizing when you watch it fall onto your window in slow steady beats making little rivers of water as it falls.

Slowly my eyes begin to close. The throbbing sound of the rain as it fell onto the earth’s surface put me to sleep. I let my eyes close. I felt so calm, peaceful, and safe all at once; it is very reassuring. It is so nice to fall asleep without worrying about what the new day will bring. I do not have to worry about school, bills, chores, work, or appointments. For now it is just me, the steady drip-drop-drip of the weather, and my unfolding dreams.


Here I Stand

​             Here I stand waiting, waiting for that inevitable moment when my name is called and I walk out to the thunderous applause of my fans. Here I stand waiting, palms sweating and heart pounding beneath my chest beating against imaginary bars until I stand in the spotlight where it will suddenly break free and rise to match those who rise to cheer me as I take my place. Here I stand waiting, stomach tense my back as rigid as the wall behind me. Here I stand waiting, short of breath, sweat beading down my face, sliding along the smooth contours of my temple, down my back, between my shoulder blades tracing my spine in tiny rivulets leaving in its path a shiny slick surface, a surface as polished as the one on my guitar. Here I stand waiting, fingers twitching against my damp palms to reach for my instrument to practice for what seemed like the thousandth time, to silently feel the smooth metal against my fingertips. Here I stand waiting, waiting for that feeling I will get when I allow myself to let go and be swept up with the music, to let all my troubles disappear with the pluck of the first note until I reach the point where it’s just me and the music. There are no wrong notes, no faceless, generic, floating heads staring up at me from the black abyss beyond the stage. There’s just the feeling of the stage firmly beneath my feet, the solid body of a guitar in my hands, and the sounds of inspiration filling the air. Here I stand waiting, waiting for the time when I am brought out of my reverie by the deafening sound of the audience showing their appreciation for such heavenly music. Here I stand waiting, waiting behind a thick black curtain for the moment when I feel satisfaction for being able to show the world what happens when you allow yourself to be whom you truly are. Here I stand waiting, waiting for that moment when the world will love me and accept me for who I am and what I can do when I put that guitar in my hands. Here I stand no longer, for that moment is now.

A Description of Falling in Love

​I can feel you staring although I am looking away. My eyes are drawn to you, pulled by an invisible thread of hopes and dreams. Up and up it pulls me, till I look into your warm chocolaty brown eyes. I can feel those eyes boring into my very soul, searching me, wanting to know my fears, my wishes, my darkest desires. Yet those creeping eyes present no danger to me; only comfort. They feel familiar, as if they were a part of me.

I feel as though my eyes are being drawn to yours by an invisible magnet. I can’t look away or break the intense gaze that follows. When I finally look at you I can’t look anywhere else. The feeling is vivid; I have never felt like this before. Our eyes are locked. It doesn’t seem uncomfortable, yet to break it would seem awkward, forbidden, unwanted. I can’t…I don’t…want to look away. I’m attached to you by a single glance…and I don’t even know your name, but that doesn’t matter much now.

I expected the eyes of a curious stranger, a passerby, but I see only a familiar face, someone whom it feels like I have known forever. I don’t feel at all separate from you. I feel connected to you, but how is this possible when we’ve never met until now?

A smile crosses my face and you smile back. It’s the smile of a friend, a lover, someone with whom you can share your sorrows and happiness with. 

You are me, but yet not me. You are an extension of me, the other half to my broken soul, the one whom I can relate to, and the one whom I can turn to in my times of need. You can read my mind like an open book and my heart as if it were your own.

You are closer to me than I am to myself. You know me better than I know myself. You are my soul mate.

Who Am I? A Piece of Flash Nonfiction

​I am a friend to those who need one. I am a best friend to those who care about me. I am a [mother, a wife] sister, a daughter, a niece, a granddaughter, and a cousin (in my family). To others I am the world and to the world I am invisible, a number, a statistic, a member of the population, and a source of income.

I am not religious, but I do believe in the concept of a “God”. I am Celiac which means I am allergic to gluten, wheat, barley, and oats. I am an athlete, a musician, and an artist. I am a writer of poetry, romance, and fiction. I am an avid reader of all types of books and I love to learn.

I am a person who has feelings and can experience love, heartbreak, sadness, euphoria, and weakness. I am shy, quiet, independent, and extremely organized. I am a perfectionist, I am honest, and I am deeply curious about anything and everything. I am a wisher and a dreamer. I am a deep thinker – almost philosophical.

I am a very sarcastic person and I love to joke around even if no one understands my jokes or sarcastic remarks. I am self-conscious about myself. I am guarded and aware of other people’s opinions. I am gullible but I also trust others – some even with my life. I judge and I am judged. I am a creator of gossip, capable of hate, and a liar (a good one I might add) at times when I need to be one. I am capable of jealousy and I am tempted by many things that may lead to the corruption of my soul.

I am different. I am one of a kind. I am unique. I am a mystery. I am priceless. I am irreplaceable. I am a product of nature. I am human. I am who I am and I am ME (GAN).

Author’s note: I wrote this in Grade 12 for an English creative writing course called Writer’s Craft. I decided to leave everything as is mostly because I still find it describes me pretty well even to this day. The square brackets are what I’ve added to update this piece to fit my life as it now stands.

HOPE – By a Friend

I know you think I’m crazy,
But I’ve so much to say:
I really cannot help but think
About kissing you one day.

Your laugh fills me with such joy,
Your smile makes me melt!
My heart flutters when I see you,
Such things I’ve scarcely felt!

Your beauty outshines all the rest,
Truly, none compare to you.
I wish that I could make you mine
I pray someday it will be true.

I know you say to give up,
That so much better, I could find.
But I think that that is crazy.
There is none better, in my mind.