Love, in its purest form, often feels like trying to grasp something just beyond our reach. The phrase "Loving you was like holding rain" captures that delicate, almost impossible act-how something so beautiful can slip through your fingers no matter how tightly you try to hold on.
I remember standing on my grandmother’s porch as a child, stretching my hands out during a summer storm, marveling at how the raindrops pooled in my palms before vanishing. That’s the thing about rain-you can feel it, but you can’t keep it. Love can be like that too. It drenches you, leaves you changed, but it doesn’t always stay.
The Paradox of Temporary Love
Some relationships aren’t meant to last, and that doesn’t make them any less meaningful. If anything, their impermanence makes them more poignant. Like rain, they nourish you for a moment, then move on. The ache afterward isn’t just loss-it’s proof that something real passed through you.
I once loved someone who was all soft edges and quiet intensity. We were never going to work-too different in the ways that mattered long-term-but for a while, we existed in this suspended, golden space. Letting go hurt, but I wouldn’t erase it. Some loves are meant to be felt, not kept.
Why We Try to Hold On Anyway
Humans are stubborn creatures. We see the storm coming and still step into it, hoping this time, we’ll be the exception. Maybe if we cup our hands just right, the rain won’t escape. Maybe this love won’t either.
But water isn’t meant to be held. Neither are some people. And that’s okay.
What Remains After the Rain
After a storm, the air smells different. Cleaner. Lighter. Even if the love is gone, you’re left with the memory of how it changed you-the way it made you laugh, the way it made you brave, the way it made you ache. You don’t have to regret something just because it didn’t last forever.
Maybe the beauty is in the trying. In the reaching out, hands open, knowing it won’t stay. Maybe love, like rain, isn’t about possession. It’s about being present for the downpour.