I forgot how the rain made me feel

It rained today. I thought it unusual for it was summer.  I looked at the  pouring rain from the glass panes of a coffee shop, holding a cup of cappuccino. Quietly,  I  made way for any feeling that would peer over me each time it rained. I waited out for the feeling to come through, fixing my gaze outside the pouring rain. And I felt even more unusual for the feeling never came.

I knew I once loved the rain. I loved both its soft and harsh hissing sound. I loved how everything around me seemed to take a slower pace,  almost to a standstill. The rain seemed to quiet and calm the soul of the earth. And with it, my own senses. I loved how I cuddled in bed in deep content as the rain seemed to have its own unique lullaby that puts me to deep sleep. 

I wanted to draw out that familiar feeling. But I couldn’t. I couldn’t feel how the rain made me feel. Not today as it was raining. I don’t feel anything at all. But I can almost remember how I used to feel.

I remember it made me nostalgic for some childhood and memories of long ago. I remember it made me feel sad - sad because the rain kind of washes out the dark and the dusty that I could clearly see  what emptiness looks like. I remember how the rain made me long for something missing  in me – even if I didn’t know exactly what it was, perhaps it could have been the warmth, the wonderful, the beautiful, the love.

A part of me is glad to know the rain no longer made me feel the darker hues of emotions. But it also made me wonder why. And what it meant. I miss how the rain made me fee.