Monsoon Season - Singapore

“Ah Ma,” he said, not looking up. “It’s raining again.”

They walked home on wet pavements, stepping over earthworms that had been driven from their burrows. The air was cool, washed clean. The frangipani flowers in the garden glistened, heavy with water.

It was the Northeast Monsoon. December in Singapore. monsoon season singapore

“No,” Lin said, pointing to the horizon where a pale, delicate rainbow arched over the gleaming towers of the Central Business District. “The sun was always here. It was just waiting for the monsoon to finish its story.”

Wei Jie finally looked up, confused. “The sky can’t be a sea.” “Ah Ma,” he said, not looking up

As they reached their block, Lin paused. The drains were still gushing, but slower now. The city had survived. It had been baptised again.

“Tomorrow,” she told Wei Jie, “the sun will be fierce. It will be hot and humid. The air will stick to your skin like a second shirt. And everyone will complain.” The frangipani flowers in the garden glistened, heavy

Outside, the monsoon season in Singapore had passed—for now. But the air was full of its promise. And somewhere over the South China Sea, the clouds were already gathering for the next chapter.