it’s raining again, like it always does.

not really, of course. no, never quite really, but it’s raining again, like it does, like it has, like it will.

i can see it: a small storm, far off, looking like some sort of soft, harmless little thing….a thing i would like to be in, despite the chill.

but the rain: always at times like this, it is the rain that pulls me back, even when it is somewhere else.

just: the rain.

just that, and only that.

i don’t know, in the deepest sense, what the rain truly means to me. it has always been with me, always a part of me, always around me, even on the driest of days. the internal meanings change as i age, and as experience dictates.

there are days like this.

and sometimes there are lifetimes.

and sometimes, i don’t know which are the longer.