My last post (been a little while) was about the rain and how I loved it as a kid. And even how I love it now.
Right after I saw that my friend Bethany commented on it, I didn’t read it because I wanted to clean up the kitchen from my breakfast and come back and read it then. Kind of wanted to savor it I guess. I don’t get many comments (not whining) so when I do it’s nice to have something to look forward to reading.
If that’s weird, so be it.
While I was in the kitchen cleaning up I started to think about what I’d written in the post about the rain and I thought about how my mother thinks/thought I was weird for loving the rain. We’d be talking on the phone on a rainy day once in a while and she’d make a comment about how it was miserable out and I’d say, “I love it.”
She’d say, “I know you do.” And then tell me I’m weird for liking the rain.
I never took it as an insult. Never. I used to laugh and think that I’m actually special and different for liking the rain.
But today, I’m in a mood. I’m so irritable. So thinking of her saying that to me, I’m thinking I might say something more along the lines of, “I’m weird? For liking the water that falls out of the sky? For liking something mother nature is supposed to do naturally? I’m weird for liking something that helps our food grow? Do you know that when it doesn’t rain for a long time we have droughts and the plants die? If we had no water, the animals would die. The humans would all die. If that’s weird then fuck it. I guess I’m weird…not to mention proud to be weird for that.”