Day 6 of 100, Singapore
In my milk-teeth memories, the months around Christmas and the new year were when the monsoon shifted its wet, northeastern weight over the region, bringing weeks of moisture that ranged from light drizzle to torrential deluge.
It is the season of respite from the bite of the equatorial warmth. Singapore is 1 degree off the equator, so it’s hot all year round, just a little less so in December.
The monsoon hasn’t made much of an appearance in the last three years, going as far as to draw all the weather away from the region in 2014 for months, leaving us on the edge of water rationing and mild panic.
I’ve missed the rain – the thunderstorms, the afternoon showers, the stickiness of a drizzle after days of build up. Monsoon season used to coincide with long holidays that marked the end of the school year, and even now, it evokes long stretches of free time accompanied by the clatter of rain on windows, and wind ghosting through ventilation gaps in doors and windows.This year it came roaring out of the northeast with rains that vindicated the rose tint of age, sometimes for days on end, the great cataract from the sky.
In the short wane of day, the very air was charged with its lifeblood, the spate at rest.