During my childhood days, soaking and playing under the rain is but limited in the confines of our house. With its high, unfinished wall and two panel steel red gate, I can’t really see what is going on outside, like in this picture. This highway is just in front of our house and I knew there were a lot of children exploring the streets, walking and having fun under the cold rain.
I realized now that my parents were just over protective of us not going outside. They were happy to know with their minds’ content that we were nearby at the yard, away from the dangers of being on the streets that they do not know what might happen to us.
Two years ago I took this photo, it was an October afternoon that the rain came pouring hard. Observe how intense the drops of rain as it hit the paved road. It was few meters away before these kids pass by our house and I hurriedly reached for my camera to capture a moment that flash backed on my memory.
That moment full of excitement that I could play under the rain, together with my elder brother we could go showering in the water-spout at the gutter of our rooftop. The splash of water hitting our heads and backs were just pure fun. Stomping our feet to create big splashes as rainwater begin to pool beneath us.
We would also get down on the dirt and mud creating dams to control the flow of the water out to the sewerage. We would use palm fronds and some Popsicle sticks to serve as bridges and dig up the mud to find pebbles or stones to strengthen our mini dams.
Mama’s voice could be heard from the inside, “Go fetch me the pail and dipper and help me save some rainwater to water my potted plants. Go! Now!”, as she orders loudly.
She would always be in bad timing—scratching our heads out of dismay and frustration—asking us when we are about to make some last-minute finishing of our architectural feat made of mud, sticks and stones. My brother and I would tease one another who gets the pail or the dipper first. And the race is on.