There was a storm yesterday. Brutal. The kind that could blur your edges into something unrecognizable, like ink on a paper. I couldn’t stay put.
I ran out in the yard, with Jonatan right behind me, and we started running around in circles on the grass. It was like being in the shower. The drops heavy, thunder raging like I’ve never heard it in Stockholm before. The yard was soon an immense puddle, perfect for jumping in, barefoot, every single piece of thread soaked on my body. The rainwater downpipes turned into waterfalls, the pressure in them so high that the water flew in all directions.
And the smell during. The wet soil and the electricity in the air. And the smell after, the softness of the air, the release. Like a breath of fresh air after a very long dive.
I love rain. Especially if it’s summer. I love being out in the rain. I love jumping around barefoot and getting soaked and feeling the drops on my face.
Hannes, who was visiting, isn’t a crazy Ruohomäki family member and didn’t therefore follow us out into the storm, but he stood in the gazebo and laughed. Mom brought out the camera. We must have looked like two escaped mental patients. An amusing sight, indeed.
Katja Malmborg 