As I write my own thoughts are hard to hear above the persistent drumming of rain across my skylight. Its dark now and although I should be in the warm embrace of Morpheus, I’m not. Not at all. The sound of rain used to act as a lullaby to me, in fact while at university I used to have a recording of rain playing to drown out the noise of the town and the monkey attempting to turn the cogs in my head. This often resulted in concerned phone calls as people have presumed my room had sprung a leak. So why am I not snoozing away peacefully? Its because instead of soothing my mind the rain seeps into my subconscious, the sound of water falling stimulates memories and my brain flicks from one to the other instead of flicking off.
Rain reminds me of staring out of my university window, evilly giggling to myself as student desperately seek out shelter as their Ugg boots turn a blacker shade of brown and the rain splashes beautifully against the cobble stones. It also reminds me of sitting in comfort of sipping on hot coffee and being ever so glad I’m not in it. However, the most powerful memories from rain comes from the powerful rain I’ve experienced, the monsoon. It reminds me of watching as people dance through the street as the first monsoon rain falls and then begin to complain about it the next day and of walking barefoot through the streets enjoying the feeling of water rushing between my toes only to get home and discover that it wasn’t just water….
It’s not just rain that does this memory recap to me, I must confess. Snow reminds me of my dog, who upon seeing snow for the first time flipped between being incredible scared by this white blanket that covered his world to trying to eat every last snow flake that stood in his way. It also reminds me of having a huge snowball fight as a student, acting like 8 year olds. Tobogganing on a dinner tray, getting too cold heading to a pub for a few warming drinks and then doing it all again.
Thunder predictably reminds me of being young and afraid, of seeing the lightening and covers my ears tightly as I felt the world was going to shatter in two. As I grow older it now reminds me of leaning out of my window at home and watching as nature carves its way through the sky.
I don’t think I’m the only one with this weather nostalgia or perhaps I am just sentimental in my old –mental- age, plus living in England means I get to experience a lot of weather. But as I lie here and the rain begins to ease, I know that whatever changes happen in my life, I can rely on my love of nostalgia and the weather.
I’d love to know if you have a similar affliction so comment below and let me know.