I begin to love and appreciate the rain again; as watching the rain is one of my favorite past times way back when I was a little boy. Somehow, it brought back the memories of who I was – that moment when I was real and true and happy. That very tiny moment of just being yourself and care less of what the world is saying about you, when contentment, innocence, and cheerfulness are all tied up in a knot. I was that boy who used to dance in the rain and sing to it as it splatters to the raw browns of the earth. I was that boy who imagined that the world was his big stage where he can be what he wanted to be. I was once that boy who imagined, and dreamed, and fantasized of all the good things coming his way. Yes, as early as now, many of those goals he had already grasped. All he wished for came to life, granted. But there’s this small bit still missing – a big incomplete jigsaw puzzle. You can’t picture the whole without that final piece. I can’t put my finger on it, but I just know, there is a missing piece. There must be. Waiting to be found.. or relived.