Definition of a Pluviophile:

Someone who loves the rain, who finds joy and peace of mind in rainy days.

This is me. If it is raining, I am content. Rain can be completely soothing in it’s steady fall or it can be full of life, anger and power in a thunderstorm. Either way, my comfort comes from this wonderful form of weather that God has made. It can feed the world in supplying nourishment for plants or it can destroy it in gushing waves of flooding. I’m not sure if I am a pessimist, if I have been depressed my entire life or if this is just me. If it rained every day I wouldn’t complain.

This is my first entry. October 5th, 2016 at 23:35.  I live in a country house 2 miles outside of a somewhat small town.  I love my house, hate my location.  My husband and I inherited this house from his grandmother, I couldn’t say no. He grew up in this house, I know it’s been his dream to live here. 

It’s the complete opposite of where I would have wanted to live.

We live within a half mile of 4 of his family members, one whom actually shares the land we live on.  I am never alone. There is always, always someone outside.  Sometimes, I feel like I’m trapped. Rarely is there a quiet moment for me here.  My dream house is next to a lake, by itself. No one around with ducks and birds. A rocking chair at the end of a dock.

This is not it.

However, I love my husband more than I have ever loved another person.  The compromise is worth it.  He is wonderful to me in every single way and that is what is important.  We do have a steel roof ( instead of shingled) and when it rains it makes the most beautiful sound.  I can sit on my porch and listen, without anyone bothering me. It’s the only time it’s quiet here.  I can sit on my porch, drink my coffee, read, my book and not have to work at a conversation. I am not good at conversation.

I’m an introvert.

I love rainy days, books, music, coffee, tea, blankets and dogs.  I could go days without any human contact and be ok with it.  I hate plans, large groups, going to work and essentially leaving my house. Apparently that isn’t normal.

I don’t care.

I’m sure my upbringing has everything to do with the way I am, but that’s for another day.

My husband is an extrovert.

He loves small talk, family gatherings, impromptu plans, and seeing people everyday.  We couldn’t be more opposite.  The only thing we have in common is our love for each other, and our love for our dogs.  That’s enough for us.  We live in this little farmhouse, a half mile from most of his family and we love each other.  Yet sometimes it’s the hardest thing for me to do. To just be here. In this house.

There are days I want to run away forever and there are days I never want to leave.  Today, I want to run away forever. I’m tired. So very tired.  I just want my mind to shut off.  I want the tension to release and I want to have coffee on my porch, but unfortunately, it isn’t raining today.  I guess I’ll have to wait.







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