The Rain and the Rainbow

Remember how it felt like when you first saw the rain? You don't? Me neither. But I know I was as excited as him, looking out the window or probably listening to my mom singing old gazals. She sings when it rains and somehow that's my memory of rainy days. Her singing, while the whistle of cooker blows off, and the curtains flutter. Back when she had no job, nothing to do except sing to the four walls of our home, maybe the tree swaying against the wind would hear her. Today, I sang to my puppy, he looked at me like he's never heard this voice of mine before. Maybe he thought I was someone else altogether. I now know how it feels like to be at home all day, like how my mother used to be. The only difference is, I recognised her voice because I was used to it, my puppy didn't because I hardly sing for him. Should I be sad? No, don't say it. I already am.