The rain drops fall like nostalgic music,

Echoing the laughter of the past,

The excited giggles, the rushing to the terrace,

The present stillness – such a sharp contrast.

 

Our little hands clasped onto dad’s fingers,

Our tiny feet splashing in the puddles,

Hours spent getting drenched in the rain,

Ending with shivering, but, warm cuddles.

 

The chilly wind wafts in the smell of the earth,

My room becomes a time machine,

Ah! Those lazy mornings and midnight binges,

And all those moments that fell in between.

 

But change is a constant we all bear,

Now miles apart – I do wonder,

The people I grew up with are so far away,

Are all those moments now truly over?

 

“MOOOOM!” screams my daughter as she bounds in,

Animatedly pointing to the torrent outside,

Before I know it she’s pulled me to the terrace,

Cheering as the rains intensify.

 

She jumps and splashes water on me,

I too become a child with my mischievous elf,

Her tiny hands clasp my fingers tightly,

I smile as history repeats itself.

 

We play, we dance, we slide, we squeal,

It never really gets over, there is no end,

My siblings are probably doing the same elsewhere,

Rains make the past and present walk hand in hand.

 

-Prachi S