Listening to rain

Virginia Russell

Rain sends us a message. On Tuesday, November 10, we had rain. Quite a bit, actually. I woke up expecting a normal, clear morning and was annoyed to discover a drizzling gray sky instead. I immediately began to think about the sudden hindrance rain had put on my day. I had to start my car extra early to defrost the windshield. I had to drive extra careful to school and there were going to be puddles to dodge and a wet-dog smell that would linger all day. My plate was already full, overflowing even, with stuff, and now I had to find room to balance yet another stupid, insignificant thing on it. I knew I was going to end up making a fuss too, because when there’s so much to do in the first place, the slightest stumble can send that metaphorical plate crashing to the ground. 

So I huffed all the way to school, grumbling that I didn’t have enough time, energy or willpower to face the dreary day. 

But, as I drove, the rain changed. I gazed at the clear drops on my window, tracing their rivulets with my finger. They were cool and smooth, calming my thoughts. The music from the radio blended with the patter and I quieted to hear the sounds. For the rest of the ride, I focused on what was happening around me. By the time I got to school, my woes from only 15 minutes before had vanished. I hurried out of the car and turned my face skyward, letting the rain fall over me. The wind blew as I twirled through every puddle, laughing, indifferent to my wet clothes. I didn’t care because in that exact moment, I was just there.

It  is  such  a  freeing feeling to immerse  yourself in a single purpose, if only for a second. Rain presents the opportunity to do that, to  connect with the earth and be alive. Rain is a beckoning phenomenon, speaking and calling in many ways, whether coaxing flowers from their beds, raising earthworms from the dirt or inviting an upset girl to stop and dance. Simply, being in the rain is letting go. Doing this is especially important now; in a year filled with so much uncertainty, it’s necessary to enjoy as many constants as possible and what’s more constant than water? 

This opinion may get confused with the idea of completely abandoning all things hard. However, experiencing the rain is not about forgetting what you have to do or throwing away problems, because those are important. The rain is about focusing on where you are now. For me, at that moment on that Tuesday morning, the rain told me to slow down. You may not get the same message, but you can still get one when you listen, because after all, it doesn’t rain all the time. Listen and maybe you’ll find out.