Under a Sakura Sky
Today, I bought an umbrella.
I stood outside the store staring through the glass pane for what seemed like hours. The cherry blossoms dotted on the transparent plastic pulled me down to the depths of my consciousness, where I never attempted to approach, for fear of being lost forever.
My temples ached in protest as I was forced to confront memories locked and tucked away. All that was dredged up were fuzzy bits and bobs, a gauzy recollection. I don’t remember much about the incident. Only that I had my new rain boots on. Back when I did not despise the rain.
It would’ve been a crime not to play during my favourite time of day. Mum gave up trying to keep me indoors. The storm was out, and so was I. That day wasn’t any different. All I remember was seeing the biggest puddle on the road and diving straight in – although I didn’t hear the usual splash, or squelch, but a screech – and then lying on my back, gulping for air like a fish out of water, while the sky continued to weep.
And then a man – or a woman? Someone. Someone loomed over me, a shadow against the clouds. I couldn’t tell what they were saying. Their umbrella, speckled with cherry blossoms, became my sky. They were such a pretty pink. My last thought was that I was glad to have seen them at least once. I had been waiting for them all season. The falling petals surrounded me as darkness descended.
So of course I bought it, though I didn’t realise until I was back outside the store.
And just in time. As much as I hate the rain, I hate even more to get wet. As the raindrops patter against my umbrella, I inhale the new plastic scent. The cherry blossoms protect me once again.
The rain is coming down pretty hard now, I should probably head home. Although, there are still quite a few people out and about-
What was that sound-
Oh god- that car- a kid! Is that kid okay?!