A Moment Meant for Me

The rain began to pour, and I found myself wondering—
Was it crying for me?
Or celebrating for me?
With me?

As if the rain cared.
As if it needed a reason.

It just exists, falling when it must. Doing what it was meant to do.

I sat there, on my couch, facing the wide open sky from my balcony window. The view was glorious—the kind that makes you forget your to-do list. And as the drizzle continued, I started to romanticize it, turning nature into poetry in my head.

The leaves on the trees wore their own palette: grey, yellowish, dark green, light green. Shades so perfect, you’d think they were painted with watercolours. The kind of colours that don’t show up every day—only when the light, the clouds, and the moment agree to meet.

And then it happened.

The sun broke through—just for a second—lighting up the tips of the leaves, turning them golden. And just like that, it vanished again. Then returned, bold and brilliant, before retreating once more behind the grey clouds. I couldn't see the sun itself—it must’ve been shining from behind, probably from the west. I was facing east. Or was it north?

And Nav—he sat next to me, facing the other way. Focused on his laptop. Editing something, typing calmly. There was about a foot between us. Maybe a bit more. We weren’t touching. We didn’t need to.

He had put on some old soul country music. The kind that fills a room without asking for attention. And though he wasn't watching the sky like I was, I knew he was enjoying it too. Not the view—he had barely looked up—but the vibe. The togetherness. The peace. My company. The music. The soft weather outside. It was 8 p.m., but the sun still had a while to set.

I wanted to say—Nav was at peace, just like me.
Enjoying the moment.
Without needing to romanticize it.
Without drifting into the cozy, forbidden love of Eva and Isabel—the characters in the novel I was reading before the rain took over my attention.

For a moment, I was the main character.
My own protagonist.
My own fiction.
My own fantasy.

And now, as the breeze cooled, and the last of the sunlight brushed against the rooftops and trees, I sat back. Grateful.

I watched the white birds fly—perhaps migrating. The sunlight hit their wings, making them shine. Majestic and soft. I listened to the music. The typing sounds from Nav’s laptop. And my own silence, filled with gentle, romantic thoughts.

Nature does what it has to do.
And I was lucky enough to watch it unfold.

I still want to believe it was all for me.
That somehow, everything happened just so I could witness it.
To see. To feel. To write.

Good things in life don’t need to be grand.
Sometimes, they’re just there.
Quietly.

Like rain.
Like music.
Like love sitting twelve inches away,
Not looking at the sky—
But still, being part of its beauty.