When rain come, I wonder to spend my time over the rain or wonder the flavor of Fried Banana.
When the rain come, I wonder to gather with my parent and siblings in the living room. We spend the time to eat and talk about everything.
When the rain come, I wonder to listen my younger brother’s joke and with my old sister and my first young brother, we annoy him until he complain to our parent.
When the rain come…. there is always the feeling of homesick.
Even sick or killed by the melancholic atmosphere, I always miss the raindrop’s sound and the cold air. I never imagine, in the other place that far away from family, the rain could bring the homesick atm. I just imagine that in the uncontrol time, I could feel homesick.
The rain makes me hate it sometime. It always makes me want to cry or gloomy. But, I can’t live without it. If there is not raining in a day, I would ask the Lord. Why? Why it hasn’t appear?
They said, Hate is the other word of Love. May be. Because, even I hate rain, I always miss it.