The poundings of rain on windowpanes, the strange quietness of the middle of the night, the loneliness of being alone when all you want is someone beside you; there are many things that someone would consider melancholy, but how many people also enjoy those things? A lot of people love the sound of rain or enjoy the steely unnatural quiet of midnight and there are people who enjoy solitude and prefer it over there being someone there. I personally love all of those things too, but as many people love those dim, quiet or “sad” experiences, there are just as many who cannot stand those things. Seasonal depression is a thing and stormy weather is one of the things that can make it worse.

              I yawned as I stretched up in my bed, the drone of my alarm almost entirely drowned out by the sound of rain and the sound of early, early morning traffic. At this time of year, the sun’s not even out yet when I wake up, though I only wake up this early so I can have my morning coffee with Mom before she heads into the hospital for work. That’s just something I’ve always liked to do; have my coffee with Mom, Dad sleeps in like a cat and his profession of being an artist does allow him the freedom to do so.

              People were always a little weirded out growing up when I explained that my mother was the breadwinner of the house because she’s a surgeon, compared to my father who is an artist whom has had his times of his work being sought after. People just found it odd that I have a stay-at-home father. Kids are the worst; they’d ask who did things like cook, laundry or other things that they assume their mothers do and I’d explain that my father did them because my mom was out of the house at the hospital making people feel better. I’ve gotten better at handling kids who ask those kinds of questions, it got annoying very quickly when I was a child myself. It was a little odd, having such a doting father and my mother working, though as I got older people generally didn’t care at all, but other than those random moments, it was a picture perfect childhood growing up here, plus well, middle of San Francisco, who wouldn’t want to grow up in that kind environment? Kind of wish my parents got rid of all the childhood photos still hung up in the halls.

              The distant clang of the trolley bells were almost entirely silenced by the pouring rain and the random, but sparce clashes of thunder and lightning, these were the kinds of days where I didn’t want to go to class and just wanted to stay at home, in bed and just enjoy all the sound of the rain and everything like that; just enjoy a slow and quiet day where I didn’t have to be bothered by all of the craziness that happens at school. Alas, I’m at Berkley and just because both my parents are alum and I get a discount for that, it’s still a good chunk of money a semester, though there’s only about a week of classes left. I’ve also never missed a day of class, so I don’t want to tarnish my personal record of never missing a day of school in my entire life, just for my own personal mental state, got to maintain that record.

              I slid out of bed as I could hear the heavy padding of not one, but three very large dogs making their way towards me, a loud wobble of the doorhandle followed a heavy thump sound as the door flew open and my family’s three giant Akitas waddled into the room, all of them just giant clouds of black and white fur, one with a blue collar, one had a green and the other a red collar. The one in the blue collar walked right up to me as he shoved his nose into my hand making me laugh.

              “I know, I’m up, Holmes” I laughed softly as I ruffled both his ears with my hands as he just panted in my face a bit.

              I got dressed as usual and went about my usual morning steps as I got dressed, made sure all of my books and things were together as I swept them into a bag which I set on the other side of my bedroom door as I walked into the bathroom. My room is pretty much the full top floor of the house, it’s a townhouse in the middle of Russian Hill, though one of the much more modern ones, not a Painted Lady, those things are going for millions upon millions of dollars compared to the one we have. The smell of shea butter and other products I use for my hair permeating the smell of the bathroom despite all of the tile, I always learned to take care of my hair to the best of my ability, even if it meant spending a few hours every night just maintaining my hair. I took the silk scarf off my head as I quickly washed out the products that I had slept with in my hair before I just scrunched it up with a towel to dry it as I went about the rest of my morning routine like brushing my hair, brushing my teeth and the other things I do. The rain still pouring as I grabbed my bag and made my way down the double-backing staircase as I kept myself on the balls of my feet and toes as I went down the floors to avoid waking up Dad, he sleeps weird hours because of how long he spends in his studio in the basement. The dogs don’t care as they went past me.

              “Morning, Hercule” Mom laughed as the dogs pushed past my legs towards her, I laughed at them as I walked over, and she handed me a mug of coffee. Mom is at least a handful or so inches taller than me, much tanner due to her being fully Bengali whereas I’m just half, I’m petite and she’s pushing six feet so…people always think I’m younger than I am. Mom’s not Muslim, so she doesn’t wear a head covering of any kind, warm and rich toned skin, long black hair with a thick streak of gray at the front of her bangs, beauty spots under the outer corner of her left eye and below the right corner of her mouth, a snug gold ring through the right side of her nose, dark brown eyes, gold framed glasses and her usual bright red pointed nails which softly clicked against the mug she was holding. She was dressed like she was going to have a very non-paperwork day compared to usual, usually she’s in heels, tailored suiting clothing and usually a sweater or something, but she was still wearing her heels, but paired with dark tailored jeans and a looser fitted paisley blouse which is how she usually dresses when she’s going to have a surgery.

              “Morning” I said through a yawn as I sat at the island

              “You not sleep well?”

              “Same as usual, just…kind of felt off the past few days” I shrugged as she tilted her head over, obviously…having a surgeon for a mother is awkward because the moment I say I don’t feel 100%, she instantly flips into work mode.

              “How so?” she asked, voice a mid-point between her work tone and usual tone, her black brow rose a little as she looked at me while refilling her own mug of coffee.

              “Just…off: it’s difficult to explain.”

              “When’d it start?”

              “Maybe a week or so at max?” I questioned myself

              “Headache?”

              “A bit”

              “Itchy?”

              “Now that you mention it, I have been a bit, I thought it was just stress or allergies.”

              “On edge? Jumpy almost?”

              “Yes” I said, confused as to how she could guess that.

              “I see” she said with a quiet laugh

              “Allergies”

              “Or test-itis, finals are this week, no?”

              “I had a hunch it was possibly that too”

              “Well, luckily that will be gone when you’re done with your finals” 

              “For the year”

              “Not too many left now”

              “I’ve got a few left” I laughed, I had spent two years off between when I graduated high school to when I started college, so I was twenty as a freshman as opposed to eighteen, but I wouldn’t go back and change the fact I did that, I benefited greatly from those two years off; I didn’t do any traveling or take a gap-year to backpack across somewhere. I just spent those two years doing things like bouncing between various local jobs with tech-firms, some interning at some law firms doing a bit of data-entry, but I’m a political science student, so I like any kind of experience I could get to help me with being able to keep myself level-headed and not forgetting about how I am focused on helping the people around me, keeping the peace and bettering all of those around me in whatever what I possibly could with my degree and what I can do with it. it’s not a medical degree or anything like that, but…keeping the peace is what I’m best at and I want nothing more than to be able to better the community I grew up in and give back to the city I’ve spent my life in.

              “Only two if you want to stop at five” she laughed, “Oh, you can follow my footsteps and go for a PhD” she added with a wink towards me.