I love rain, probably because I grew up in the sub-tropics where monsoons were a regular visitor during summer time. As a child I recall time spent playing in the gutters or splashing in floodwaters around our area. When I grew tired of that, I would play under the house with my siblings and try to stay out of my mother's way upstairs.
It would rain between 2 and 6 weeks, often times during our summer holidays over Christmas. Those Christmas presents were certainly a godsend for many parents during those times, though I've heard children say just a few days after Christmas, "I'm bored!"
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The flood-waters had a peculiar smell: mud, dead bugs, rotting vegetation and a multitude of odours, but for us it was the smell of adventure, of freedom and fun.
Growing up in a poor family, toys were a luxury. I still have two of the dolls from my childhood because they were so important to me. My "yes and no" doll was able to nod or shake its head if you pressed a button on its belly or back. She never seemed to have a name, though my pretend Barbie© doll I proudly called Kathy, which I thought at the time was the most beautiful name in the world. You can imagine that when I met a girl my age called Kathy, I was automatically drawn to her because my mind assumed that she would also be a lovely person. She was.
Rain is wonderful, and so are the memories that go with it. ©
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