A Window Memory (A Personal Atelier Note): "A Memory by the Window - May Rain"

A Memory by the Window - May Rain

Just before dawn,
the rain continues beyond the window—
soft enough to soothe,
steady enough to fill the room.


All through the night
its voice has lingered,
gently guiding darkness
toward the pale arrival of morning.


The rain folds itself
into the melodies of a musician in my memory—
someone who feels both distant
and impossibly near,
like a memory still warm to the touch.


There is the creaking of wood.
The quiet movement of hands
lifting clothes one by one from their hangers,
folding them carefully
into a suitcase I cannot see.


And because I am afraid
these moments may disappear,
I want to bind them
to something lasting—
to the sound,
to the air,
to the trembling certainty of my own senses—

so I may tuck them safely
inside my heart.


Until the day
new moments begin
to overlap with these again.


Sometimes,
only a few days
are enough to become
something you carry
for the rest of your life.


And this morning—
washed gently in rain and light—
feels like a beautiful place
for a life to begin again.


-May 25, 2026 Natsumi Goldfish