I didn't always feel the rain like I do now. When I was a kid I really didn't care for it. It made me feel cold. As a teenager it messed up my carefully and purposely sculpted bangs and ruined my mascara. Rain was a pain in my ass. I knew there was something special about it and I loved the smell that it pulled form the earth, but I was too busy wanting to be warm and cute to figure it out.
When I was in my early twenties I lived at home with my dad and I was a smoker. My feelings about the rain started to change as I did. I used to love sitting in the gazebo that housed the hot tub in the back yard and enjoy a cigarette in the rain. Fat raindrops would come falling through the open sky light into the hot tub as my exhaled smoke made its way out. The sound on the roof was reassuring. The wood structure was moist and smelled comforting. I sat on the wooden bar stool at the built in counter while small drops snuck in through the cracks onto my hand. It was peaceful. Just me, my thoughts, and my cigarette.
There is a day from my later twenties that I purposely burned into my memory. What seemed like an uneventful day, had become a fond memory due to the soothing touch of the rain. It was my first apartment with just myself and my little boy, not even two years old. It was a Monday and I had the day off of work. The complex was quiet. My little boy was napping. I had the back door open so that I could hear and smell the rain. I walked back and forth to the laundry room that was just outside my back patio. I remember how content I felt, folding laundry, looking at my sleeping child, listening to music as my apartment filled with the smell of rain. I told myself I would remember that feeling, the smell, and the sound, so I could return to it whenever I wanted. It was the perfect rainy day with no where to be. I wasn't cold, in fact, I felt like the rain had captured me, warming my heart. I could tell that my relationship with the rain had changed.
When my boy woke, I took him to the back door and told him to take a big breath, to smell the rain. "Doesn't that smell great?" I asked him. He seemed as delighted as I to be sharing this little treasure. To this day, almost nine years later, he yanks the back door open to get a good whiff of the rain.
Later that year I took a road trip to Oregon with my son and my cousin. It was then that I truly bonded with the rain. It rained pretty much everyday. I noticed things. I noticed that I didn't think to cover my head when getting out of the car. I walked down the street, I walked on the beach, in the rain, but I didn't get wet, I just felt the rain. It wasn't a pain in my ass anymore. It was cleansing, it was a gift. It was fresh and it made me feel alive.
Last year my oldest son and I made one of our most cherished memories together with the rain. It was pouring outside. We put on big jackets and leashed the dog. We ran. We took our dog and we ran together for almost a mile without stopping in the pouring rain. It stung a little as it smacked or faces. It was cold but our insides were warm from running. We laughed and we shouted out into the rain. It was so fun and so exhilarating that we could hardly contain ourselves. What a rush! Our dog seemed equally as excited. Neither of us really wanted it to end. We went home in soaked clothing and took hot showers (including doggy) and recapped how much fun we just had.
The rain had become so special to me that I jumped at any chance to share it with my children. The last good rain we had, we sat on the front porch and drank hot chocolate together. We watched how everything was the same but looked so different. The wet road looked unfamiliar and far away. The rain was loud but soothing. Watching their faces light up as if they were watching magic was a sweet treat.
I love how the rain makes everything more vibrant. Grass looks greener, flowers look brighter, even the dirt appears to look more rich. The rain reminds me of calm. It reminds me of love and comfort. It always feels necessary and meaningful. It feels cleansing and pure. Have you ever noticed how the rain makes anything more passionate? Kissing, singing, running, dancing, a walk. The rain is passionate on its own, bringing passion to everything under its umbrella.
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