Often when growing up, I would seclude myself to escape the madness of my family and focus on other sounds to block out the family fights. This is when rain became a better parent to me than my birth family. Rain would sing to me in a thousand small voices on the window or on the roof, providing me great comfort. I could sit for hours and listen to the thousands of small variations the rain provided.
Still today, decades later, rain sings to me, and my soul sings back, thankful for all the years of nurturing songs that I have been given, all the beauty passed through each voice, and all the healing of my childhood pain.