I wanna tell you a story about a little girl, who used to hide behind her mother, every time there was thunder. Her mom loved the rain, and everything about it.
The little girl loved the rain, and soon she learnt to like the thunder too, even then. Though, every once in a while, she used to reach out for her mom's hand, especially in the night, when the rain drops fell on the window sill and an especially bright lightning streaked across the sky. She had read somewhere that thunder follows lightning.
She used to hold on to the hand when the thunder rumbled, and didn't let go till she fell asleep. Some days, when she wasn't sleepy in the night, or when night mares came her way, she did the same. Reached out, held and even played with her mom's fingers occasionally.
Her mom had the softest hands.

Like all stories, this story had a twist too.

Suddenly, one night, she reached out for her mom's hand as usual and found that she couldn't reach it anymore.

Her mom had told her that she's not a little girl anymore, and that she's grown up and has to take care of herself. She herself knew that the day would come when she reached out and found no soft hand to hold on to when she was scared.

It's not one of those stories where the girl immediately made a decision after the first time when she reached out and found nothing, it was slow ... many a night, she reached out expecting it to be there, and realized a bit too late after finding and empty space. All she could do was cry herself to sleep.
Eventually, the tears grew scarce. The pain never left.
She learnt something though, she learnt that if you didn't think about it, if you did so many things that you don't have to think about it, you don't feel the pain. Not because it's not there. But because you don't look where it is.

The girl also vowed never to have to reach out to any other hand again.

As luck would have it, people came along in her life, who told her that it's good to hold on to something. That she'll feel safer. And after a lot of deliberation, when she actually decided to reach out, they held but let go. It wasn't like her mom's hand which was always there, when she needed it and even when she didn't know she needed it. She tried once, she tried twice ... then in the night she found herself reaching for her mom's hand again.
Other people in her life had made her want to reach out, and she was left groping in the dark with no one to hold on to.
Now, she has to learn to not reach out again ...

This is unfortunately not one of those stories, where I can tell you if or not it ended happily or sadly. All that I know is that the little girl is trying to grow up and she's trying very very hard not to be scared of the thunder, because she does love the rain. She still dreams of the best pair of hands she used to have to hold on to.


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