rain, rain, please don’t ever go away.
As I sit on my back porch this morning, I have a smile upon my face. It’s not the smile I usually carry on Saturdays; you know, the one that I am forced to have permanently plastered to the lower third of my face, as a Starbucks barista. No, this morning, this smile comes from one of the very few things life that can lift the corners of my lips—rain.
The weather forecast has been predicting all week that it will rain today, Saturday, and I have been looking forward to this prediction’s truth all week, as well. Some people don’t like rain very much. They find its trickling down on their back porches to be an inconvenience. They find its droplets to be ruining of the carwash for which they just paid $12.50. They find its wet roads to be a sigh-worthy cause, especially in this city. They find its way of infusing moisture into every thing imaginable unpleasant. I am not one of those people.
Yet don’t accuse me of being a fair-weather (ha) friend to rain, for it is not simply when the occasional downpour comes that my true colors fly like a deep grey kite in the bright blue sky that usually covers Tucson. No, I have always loved rain. Maybe it seems silly to love weather, but I genuinely am in LOVE with rain. Oh the way it begins it slow trickle, with a couple drops right as you began to say, “I don’t think it is ever going to rain.” And the way it trickles down, making you wonder, “Is it ever going to be more than this? Or is just going to sprinkle and then fizzle out?” Oh rain, the way it seems to hear your doubt, picking up its intensity, so as to say, “Do you still want me now? Do you? I’m giving you all I’ve got! Is it too much now?” And then the way it calms itself down, and continues its slow trickle, its slow drizzle, its slow…loving of everything and everyone.
Some people think that rain causes the renewal of life. I disagree. Rain IS the renewal of life. Like the hot tears that claim the eyes and face of a young woman as their home, rain allows us to experience moments of intense thought, especially in this dry and arid city. On days that it rains here, Facebook statuses are blowing up with complaints, adorations, and just general statements about rain. How many sunny days at 85 degrees make people do that? Very few would be my guess, and as an avid Facebook user, I’m probably pretty much an expert on statuses.
Rain causes our minds to rewire. We are so accustomed to life with warmth, sunshine, and dryness that when the tears of the sky finally fall, we are left with the “Well, shit, what do I do now?” mentality. Rain is the crisis that makes us think about everything in life that really matters. Yes, it is on a much smaller scale, unless we count hurricanes, tsunamis, etc as just “rain.” Rain allows us to renew our minds. It brings life to our bodies. It quenches the thirst of our souls. And most importantly, it knows better than we do.
When we most desire rain, it runs in the opposite direction. When we say, “Oh please don’t rain! Please don’t rain,” it comes without warning, in angry downpours. Rain knows what is best for us, and cares not for our silly opinions.
I love rain because I know that when I unknowingly need its renewal most, it will come to me. In fat droplets. In trickles. In sprinkles. In slanted needly droplets. In every form imaginable at the same time. It will come to me. And when it stops, oh when it stops, a ray of sunshine will poke its head through the clouds, and colorful arches will cover the skyline—a renewal for all.
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