One More Time

It amused her how people believed rains were the best time to cry. Literature was full of varying versions of the same fact, and everybody seemed to agree with everybody else- tears could mingle with droplets of rain and run down your cheeks and no one would know the difference.

It was pointless and deceptive. One could always tell the difference. She could always tell the difference. As if to prove the point, a thin rivulet ran down her already soaked face. It was hot and it pricked-the gush of liquid out of her jet black eyes. The rain was, in contrast, bitter and biting cold. There was a difference.

The rain gods were in a mood to exhibit their full fury and she was drenched from top to bottom. She hated the rains; they made her feel vulnerable, lonesome and very, very scared.

The clouds carried endless oceans within them, just like the corners of her eyes. She considered it fitting that she wasn’t the only one weeping. The least the universe could do was show her some sympathy, after having snatched away her chance at love, yet again. She was tired of the pain love brought in its wake. Was it even worth the sacrifices? No matter how much she gave, it was never enough; her very best was not enough. She always ended up hurting someone- mostly her own self. If they awarded degrees for that kind of hurt, hers would be a double doctorate.

The rain lashed harder at her back and the harsh winds whipped her face. She deserved the punishment, she thought, for having trusted, for having lived a lie, for having loved. She kept walking down the deserted street, bearing the inclement weather and the numbing pain.

All of a sudden, their eyes met- her jet black with his deep brown. And, the universe stopped.

He was walking towards her from the opposite end and they were on collision course. Instinctively, she backed off. He saw her move and stopped a few feet away.

A whirlwind of emotions coursed through her at the sight of him- longing, compassion, joy, sadness, and love. It was a trap, her mind warned her. She should know better than letting herself get pulled into the whirlpool again.

She was already so broken, so bruised. Could she do this all over again?

All the while she was battling her demons, he stood still, as if trying to gauge what she felt. He kept gazing at her with so much promise in his eyes that even the rains ceased to matter. Tentatively, he stepped forward. She let go, and gave in to her heart, once more. When you had lost so much, perhaps losing lost its threat altogether. Their eyes met again, this time in a silent vow of trust, of forever.

Slowly at first, and then with supersonic speed, he ran up to her, falling into her embrace. She held him; tears of sorrow turned into those of happiness. Love did that to you, she knew. They smiled at each other, no longer lonely.

The puppy squeaked in her arms. He had found a new home. And she, the courage to trust love, just one more time.

(Inspired by Maya Angelou’s quote: Have enough courage to trust love one more time and always one more time.)