When the Rain Says Goodnight

The day is done, and the sky is turning grey. Mei is in her pyjamas. Her teeth are brushed. Her schoolbag is packed by the door.

Then she hears it, on the window. Tap. Tap-tap. "Mama," Mei says. "Who is that?"

Mama smiles. "That's the rain," she says. "She comes every evening to say goodnight to the city. Shall we listen?"

Mei climbs onto the window seat. Mama sits beside her. Together, they listen.

Pitter, patter. The rain goes first to the playground. The slide is empty now. The swings are still. The rain pats the top of the slide, soft and slow. "Goodnight, slide," whispers the rain. "Goodnight, swings. You played so well today." Pitter, patter. Time to rest.

Then the rain goes to the market on the corner. Uncle Lim is stacking the last of his stools. One, two, three, four. He pulls down the shutter. Clank. The rain drums gently on the roof. "Goodnight, Uncle Lim," whispers the rain. "Your noodles were warm and good today." Pitter, patter. Time to rest.

Then the rain goes to the big old tree by the bus stop. High in the branches, the mynah birds fluff their feathers. They tuck their heads under their wings. The rain shakes the leaves, very gently, like a lullaby. "Goodnight, little birds," whispers the rain. "Hold on tight. I will keep the branches cool." Pitter, patter. Time to rest.

Then the rain goes to the stairs downstairs. Underneath, Oyen the orange cat curls into a ball. His tail wraps around his nose. The rain does not make him wet. She only plays her soft drum on the roof above. "Goodnight, Oyen," whispers the rain. "Dream of fish." Pitter, patter. Time to rest.

Then the rain goes down to the river. The little boats bump softly, side by side. The water rocks them, back and forth, back and forth. "Goodnight, little boats," whispers the rain. "Rock, rock, and rest." Pitter, patter. Time to rest.

Then the rain goes all the way across town, to a window with a warm yellow light. Inside, Ah Ma is folding a blanket. Her reading glasses wait on the table. She looks out at the rain, and she thinks of Mei. "Goodnight, Ah Ma," whispers the rain. "Mei says she loves you." And Ah Ma smiles, as if she heard. Pitter, patter. Time to rest.

Mei yawns a great big yawn. "Mama," she says. "Is the rain coming to say goodnight to me, too?" "She is here already," says Mama. "Listen."

Tap. Tap-tap. On the window. Mama carries Mei to bed. She pulls the blanket up, up, up, all the way to Mei's chin.

"Let's breathe like the rain," Mama whispers. "Breathe in, slow, like a cloud filling up." Mei breathes in. "And breathe out, slow, like the rain falling down." Mei breathes out.

In, like a cloud. Out, like the rain. In. And out.

The playground is sleeping. The market is sleeping. The birds, and Oyen, and the little boats are sleeping. Ah Ma is sleeping too, far across town.

And the rain sings her softest song, just for Mei. Pitter, patter. Pitter, patter. Time to rest.

Goodnight, Mei. The whole city is tucked in. And so are you.