I love rain. Not the kind that floods the roads and tangles your hair, but the quiet, long, almost transparent kind. It's as if it doesn't come for the street - for the soul. I call such days - blanket days. They smell of cinnamon, wet air and something warm, elusive.

When it's raining, it's as if I get permission to slow down. Not to answer all messages. Not to put on lipstick. Not to go out. Just to be. To be yourself - slowly, without a plan, without obligations. I throw on my favorite blanket, the same gray one with slightly frayed edges, and make myself tea. Sometimes with ginger. Sometimes just black, but always strong.

The rain outside the window is like music without words. It doesn't interfere, it speaks. Tells stories if you want to hear them. I often wonder: how many stories is the rain whispering right now? Maybe it’s embracing someone’s loneliness. Or uniting lovers under one umbrella.

When it rains, I remember more often. For some reason, that’s when images come to mind — a cup of coffee in a friend’s hands, a bike ride through puddles as a child, conversations in the kitchen under the hum of drops. Everything becomes a little softer. Even what seemed sharp.

I always wrap myself in a blanket with my head. I don’t know why, but it creates the illusion of a cocoon. As if I’m hiding from the world, but in a good way. No one bothers me, and I can just breathe.

Sometimes I read a book. Sometimes I just look out the window. I like it when everything is gray, and in the room there is light from a lamp and a candle. I think that’s happiness. Calm, simple. Without firecrackers, without fireworks. Just you, a blanket, rain and silence.

Have you ever felt how nice it is to touch a warm cup with your hand on such days? Or how your feet hide under the blanket, as if looking for safety? These are such small gestures of self-love.

Once I arranged a rainy day for myself, even if the sun was outside. I simply closed the curtains, turned on the sound of rain in my headphones, made cocoa and wrapped myself in a blanket. We can create our own atmosphere. Not wait, not hope - just take and do.

I think rain teaches us to listen. To ourselves, our desires, our fears. After all, when there is no noise from the outside world, you hear how quietly your reality knocks. And if you are ready, you can understand it.

And I also believe that it is on rainy days that the best letters are written, the most honest thoughts are born and quiet discoveries are made. Everything important always happens quietly.

And yes, in such moments it is especially pleasant to dream. About summer, about feelings, about evenings where it will be light from candles and calm from a glance. Maybe the rain comes so that we can believe in coziness again.