There's something about rain.
When I am outside, I very much dislike it when it rains. I can feel the muscles all over my body clench the moment that the (most likely acidic) rainwater begins to seep into my shoes and soak my socks. I can't help but screw up my face when the wind starts carrying the light drizzle around and depositing it onto my cheeks and body, as if ignoring the fact that me carrying an umbrella is an indication that I do NOT want to get wet.
But then, when I am at home ...
I feel washed over by this certain sense of peacefulness and tranquility as I listen to the regular swooshing of the rainwater. Especially when I am lying in my air-conditioned bedroom... there really is no better lullaby than the pitter-pattering on my windowsill. And funnily enough, I feel like the heavier the rain the better. I guess it highlights the fact that I am in this safe little bubble, listening to the muffled roaring outside my walls.
And the child in me really enjoys seeing the flashes of lightning and anticipating the bellowing thunder that comes after; feeling the suspense build up each second that passes, then that sense of satisfaction when the grumbling finally comes. I honestly have no idea why that always brings a smile to my face.
It got me thinking, this makes me a lot like the people from Omelas, doesn't it? I find joy in knowing that life could be worse. I smile at the juxtaposition between my comfort and the peril just meters away.
Should I feel guilty?