This place is like a perpetual summer with the so-called "winters" feeling more like a crisp fall or a breezy spring. But yesterday morning as I walked downstairs to the kitchen, listening the usual hustle and bustle of the busy street outside (what I like to call "the melody of NYC" that we brought with us to LA), I grabbed a bowl of cereal and plopped down on the worlds comfiest couch (trust me, it's the best). I suddenly realized how gloomy my apartment felt. Usually when I walk downstairs in the morning, the apartment is filled with natural, beautiful light. I generally don't even turn on a single light until the sun goes down.
I also felt oddly chilly. Now, this may have been more mental than physical as everyone I know everywhere else in the country is currently freezing in their own personal winter wonderlands and posting alllllllllllll about it on every possible form of social media. But nonetheless I grabbed our fluffiest blanket that's basically a comforter and flipped on the fire (I've always thought fires turned on by a light-switch are pretty lame, that was until I had one and now I'm OBSESSED).
Then I heard this weird pitter-patter coming from the sky-light by the door to the roof. This was a new sound for my apartment. Almost like a naive Disney character turning corners and creeping up long dark staircases being led solely by their own curiosity, I dramatically turned the corner and went up the stairs to the roof (yeahhhhh, that may sound like a stretch...but anytime I can compare myself to a Disney character, I WILL).
I opened the door and there it was, rain. My beautiful, beautiful friend that I used to love more than the sun. It had been a good long while since I'd seen this dear old friend of mine, as LA "rain" is pretty rare. And by "rain" I really mean mist...you know, like those misters you walk under at Six Flags on a hot day in July. But for people out here a mist might as well be a monsoon (and don't even THINK about getting Los Angeleans to drive in it). But this? This was real rain.
I just stood there on my roof for quite sometime. Looking out at the foggy mountain tops, not caring a bit that my favorite house-shoes were getting sopping wet, just standing and listening. Listening to the beautiful sound of raindrops hitting roofs and trees and cars and sidewalks. This might just be my favorite sound in the world.
I was reminded that beauty comes in many different forms, not just clear skies and perfect sunny days. Happiness is a choice, one you make daily! You can choose to find the joy in the gloom, or let the gloom consume you in the worst way. As I stood there, listening to my old friend, I was reminded of one of my absolute favorite quotes:
"Happiness can be found, even in the darkest of times, if one only remembers to turn on the light (or listen to the rain ;)."