The Rain and My Warm Cup

The sky changes color. It turns a soft, sleepy gray. I know what’s coming. I can smell it in the air. A smell like cool dirt waiting for water.

The first drop hits the window glass. Plink. Then another one. Soon, it's a soft drumming all over the roof. A quiet song just for me. All the other noises in the world go away. The street sounds get fuzzy and far.

I watch the world get a bath. The leaves on the trees turn a bright, happy green. The dusty road gets dark and shiny. It feels like everything is new again. Clean and quiet.

My thoughts get quiet too. The busy parts of my brain go to sleep. It’s just me and the sound of the water falling. I feel small. But in a good way. Like I’m a little secret the world is keeping safe.

This is when I want chai.

I go to the kitchen. I make a cup. It’s hot and smells like ginger and sweet things. I wrap my hands around the warm mug. It feels so good. The steam touches my face.

I sit by the window again. Me and my warm cup. I watch the rain fall down in lines. The world outside is cool and wet. But in my hands, it is warm.

This feeling. It’s like a hug. A quiet, warm hug that lasts a long time. The rain sings its song. The chai warms me up from my tummy to my fingers. For right now, everything is okay. Everything is calm. It’s my favorite kind of day.