Every day I wake up hoping for rain. There is nothing more tranquil than the sound of falling rain on the roof, its rhythmic tapping on the window pane, silvery streaked lines, or the soft glow of a dove gray sky that makes colors seem so vibrant. Blues, greens, yellows, and reds brilliantly splashed across a misty canvas.
Looking at my early life experiences, I should not enjoy rain. My psychiatrist mother has told me that many fears develop while children are young, at about two or three years old. That being said, during those formative years I was living in Pensacola, Florida, a small beach town vulnerable to moody, unpredictable weather and tremendous thunderstorms, on the Gulf of Mexico. Many nights were spent bursting into my parents’ room, seeking protection from the wailing storm outside. A giant pine tree loomed above the roof of my bedroom. When the sky would become angry and dark, the wind would gust, sending pinecones crashing from the tree, landing above my bedroom with the blast of a grenade. No matter how hard it rained, or how strongly the wind blew, those temperamental storms could not touch me. They were never welcome or invited into my warm, comforting home.
Growing up, rainy days were always special. Rainy days seemed to be like a vacation from everyday life, whether it was tea parties, fort making, or reading about a princess in faraway lands. There were always hushed soft voices, warm enveloping hugs, and a feeling of magical wonder. No matter what I was doing, an overwhelming sense of comfort and security surrounded me, like a single flame in the midst of darkness. It was my cozy little world where dreams came alive and were played out before my eyes.
Most people consider the rain ruinous, a guaranteed recipe to destroy one’s day. They see the rain as pollution to their sunshine, unwanted gloominess lingering above their heads. Often, when people are upset, rain becomes a metaphor for their hurt feelings. In movies, when the princess is distraught and thinks she has lost her true love, heavy rainfall ensues until the prince arrives to sweep her off her feet. Then, magically, the sun peeks out from behind the clouds. All is well in the world. People naturally want to wish away the rain and bring out rays of sunshine.
Not me. Whenever I am feeling blue or am upset, I think back to those rainy afternoons. I can hear the clink of teacups, feel the soft pillows of a living room fort, or smell the scent of vanilla from baking cookies. While people search for sunshine on a cloudy day, I look for my rainy day in the midst of clear skies.