It’s a little gloomy outside. The council of elderly clouds seem to have gathered over the evening skies today. They’ve blocked nearly all of the gentle sunlight we usually get at this time of the day. But they haven’t been able to do much about the breeze that visits us at sunset. Today, the breeze is a bit more brisk than usual-as if they’re hurrying along because someone more important is about to follow. I had to cut short my walk in the park and head back home where I’m now seated with a glass of piping hot sulaimani and some cocktail samosas. One of my favorite things to do in the world is to watch the rain with a hot beverage and a spicy snack in hand. But today, it wasn’t the rain that caught my eye.

I’m a sucker for sheer curtains. I love how they float and dance for the mildest of kind breezes and how they filter the early-fall sun-rays into a cozy wave of what can only be described as pure joy. Although today it’s not the light through them that is gorgeous-it’s far too dark for that. But they’re still dancing. The rain outside is flirting with them a little, occasionally flying in through the window with the help of a passing breeze who is more than happy to play wingman. Those raindrops have soaked the bottom of the curtains which are now hurriedly waving themselves in the breeze almost as if they’re drying themselves off. As they pass over the Peace lilies I’ve left by the window, they leave traces of water on the leaves and on the wooden floors. Now another breeze enters the house, blowing the curtains as far back as they’ll go like someone pushing a  swing back and letting it go playfully and giggling. There the curtain goes again, kissing the floor, then over the Peace lilies and all the way to the ledge again and back over and over and over. 

This has gone on for a while but it looks like the rain is tiring and is heading out. As the breeze pushes in through the window, perhaps it said a soft goodbye. The curtains fly over the Peace lilies again, chasing behind the retreating breeze but this time they don’t stop at the ledge. This time, they press themselves to the window sill as if they want to burst through the thin insect screen and leave with that breeze who rushes back in for a quick goodbye kiss one last time and leaves. The sheers fall back and settle into an uncomfortable stillness. Another breeze passes by, this time without enter the house. It looks like the sheers have seen it because there they go, chasing the breeze that was never theirs to begin with. They press themselves to the insect screen in the window for another moment, hoping for an escape but it has passed. Perhaps it’ll be back on another rainy evening.