16/08/2026
I woke up to the rain hitting hard outside.
Not the light kind either.
This is the kind that just doesn’t let up.
It’s loud and constant, like it’s trying to wash everything out.
Most people don’t think twice about it.
You grab a coat, an umbrella, you stay inside, you go about your day.
You’ve got somewhere to be warm when it’s over.
When you’re homeless, it’s different.
Rain isn’t just weather.
It changes everything.
If I step outside, I’m soaked in minutes.
There’s no “dry off and change later.”
I don’t have later clothes.
What I’m wearing is all I’ve got.
Once it’s wet, it stays wet.
Cold just settles in and doesn’t really leave you.
So I stay put when I can.
But staying put means not moving.
Not going to get food.
Not going to the places I usually try for a hot drink or something to eat.
Because even the walk there means arriving drenched, shivering, and already worn down before anything else even starts.
And you feel the hours pass in a different way when you’re hungry and stuck watching the rain.
Outside, I see people moving fast, with hoods up, heads down, rushing from one dry place to another.
Home. Work. A shop. A car.
Just somewhere warm waiting for them at the end of it.
That’s the word that sticks with you.
Somewhere.
Because when you don’t have it, you notice it everywhere.
Today I’m lucky to be in a shelter, out of the worst of it.
I don’t take that for granted.
But it doesn’t fix everything.
Tomorrow I’ll still need dry clothes.
Something warm that actually keeps the cold out.
Food that lasts more than a few hours.
And still I have the same problem of where to go when the rain starts again.
Rain is just an inconvenience when you’ve got a home to go back to.
When you don’t, it shrinks your whole world down to waiting for it to stop.
www.passitonclothing.com.au
