On that Tuesday, I had a million reasons to hate the rain. Its constant patter on the windows made it impossible to daydream, forcing me to be attentive in all my classes even when my eyes ached from the strain. I could have been at home, nestled in my down comforter, rejuvenated from my 2:00 am video gaming session the night before. But no, I just had to be here. Tuesday, January 6th, was the resumption of school from a languishing Christmas break. The forbidden promise of snow had vanished, exchanged for a month of morose, slate-grey heavens and nonstop downpours. There was something entirely foul in the notion. December’s charm had disappeared and it was time to welcome in a fresh year of drudgery with January.
Plus, it was cold. The walk to Geometry class involved a frantic dash all the way across the lawn through freezing curtains of rain. Not to mention all that water had thoroughly soaked my laptop case. All of this was merely salt in the wound. Returning to school was bad enough. Why did it have to rain?
Still, if it hadn’t rained that day, I doubt I would have ever discovered what I now hold to be one of my truest beliefs.
The barbarous trudge to Chemistry also involved a panicked dive through more slanted sheets of falling water. Emerging under the math building’s covered walkway, I glanced momentarily at my haggard face in the glass door before looking up to determine my route.
Black trees stood silhouetted, in all their leafless detail, against the blank, silver sky. Glittering streaks of water lashed at the bricks, forming soft puddles between the cracks and making a bog of the perfectly manicured front lawn. The rain’s musical whispers echoed off the concrete columns, setting the covered walkway humming with inaudible tunes. The branches of the onyx trees swayed lazily in the pounding rain, waving hesitantly at me like relatives I hadn’t seen in a while.
No one in my school wanted to cross the quad and risk getting wet. Only now, in her solace, did nature dare to speak. Raindrops bounded off every available surface, chiming merrily in their newly formed pools. Old, darkened trees creaked and moaned under the stress of the weather. Each new development enthralled me further until I could no longer think of my previous annoyance.
For a moment, I felt a primal delight; I wanted to jump in the puddles, roll around on the soupy front lawn, just spin around in circles for joy. I had seen something truly beautiful.
I believe in these moments, these tiny scraps of beauty that life occasionally drops in our laps. Too often do I move in a daze, bitterly stomping around without ever glancing up from my tennis shoes. Too often have I looked at the sky, garnished in the sunset or glimmering with rain, and felt nothing. My resolve is to change that. I believe in finding beauty in the mundane.
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