When I Think Of You I’ll Always Think Of November Rain

Mario Calvo

Year after year I find myself taken back by the November rains.

I become so accustomed to the late night skies bursting with orange and red sunsets, and the breezes that drift through the trees and then ever so gently down my spine continually reminding me just how lovely the autumn is. Then it hits. It pours. There is no easement, just the annual feelings of vulnerability that each rain drop is comprised of. Each November day is accompanied with an umbrella, and an overwhelming sense of change. The sort of change that you welcome, but only after you’ve been caught in the middle of a downpour without your rain jacket. The sort of change that embraces you with falling leaves and the scent of rain soaked sidewalks. The sort of change that calms you on those Saturday afternoons when you’re tangled in white sheets and captivated by the sound of every rain drop beating on your roof and eventually rolling down the cold glass windows.

I probably won’t ever stop trying to make sense of the way I affiliate you with those very same November rains.

There was no forewarning, no preceding emotions that braced me for your rains. You are that very first rain, the one that floods the streets and drowns the dry summer grounds. The one that seizes me with large wet drops encompassing my every move.

Maybe the affiliation was from your quick and unforeseen presence. I was so very accustomed to the lightness of summer relationships that your November qualities drowned me in emotions I wasn’t quite familiar with. It was as though, like rain falling from heavy clouds, every sentence that slipped so eloquently out of your mouth saturated my clothes, and then my skin, until I could feel it deep inside my bones.

Or maybe the affiliation was from the aura that radiated from each one of your movements. The movements that so effortlessly calmed any environment. The movements that could alleviate my worst fears, in the same way the November rains tame even the wildest forest fires.

Or maybe the affiliation was from the way you reminded me that happiness does not correlate only with the easiness of summer, but can also stem from the beauty that accompanies the winter months.

Year after year I find myself taken back by the November rains.

I desire only the light airy moments that summer and autumn carry so simply. The moments that you’re physically present while letting your mind wander with the passing breeze. It wasn’t until I met you that I desired the mindset each November reinforced so heavily. The mindset that washed away the easiness. The mindset that instead circulated the rains through impermeable grounds that once flourishing gardens had nearly died without. You were my November rain. All the same as the dark gray clouds that took me by surprise each year. The ones that encaptivated my mind with new emotions, and immersed every inch of my body into a cooling sense of calm. The ones that surround me with smells of the footprints being washed from concrete sidewalks. Difficult to grasp and hard to see coming; you’re so very similar to that first November rain.

Unlike that first November rain, I wanted to be completely enthralled with every touch, every breath, and every emotion that poured out of you and engulfed each aspect of my existence. Thought Catalog Logo Mark

Aspiring to be the next Sophia Amoruso, and drinking champagne while doing it.

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