Essential Question Response: Rain

This post is in response to my essential question 'what will make my happy?'

I love rain. Where I live, here in Hawaii, rain isn't cold or sleety and doesn't mean danger of hail or pneumonia or thunderstorms with striking, burning lightning. Rain here is usually warm, even when it's torrential, and if we do have a rare case of a thunderstorm, the lightning comes in sheets that brighten the sky.

Sometimes my favorite kind of rain is the kind that goes on and on and on without stopping, like the winter when it rained for 42 days straight. The kind of rain that makes endless puddles and cancels sports practice. The kind of rain that will soak you in seconds. The kind of rain that gives you the excuse to take off your nice school shoes and go barefoot. The kind of rain that you can dance in, run around in, the kind of rain that makes you shriek with joy like a five-year-old, even if you're 15. The kind of rain that spurs you and your sleepover friend to creep out in the middle of the night and run around in the dark, just to feel the water on your skin, just for the thrill of being out there when no one knows you are, enjoying something that no one else is.

Sometimes my favorite kind of rain is the kind that comes with thunder. It's one of the most satisfying feelings in the world to, after months of cloudless humidity, hear thunder booming and see a storm coming. To smell that wonderful smell as the cool rain hits the hot asphalt on the streets, patters gently at first and then pours down on the palm trees outside. It's a beautiful cozy feeling to curl up, dry and warm under a blanket, and watch the rain pound against the skylight. And then, when it suddenly stops to make way for the sun and a rainbow, to run outside and splash, smell the grateful earth that is renewed and the plants that are refreshed, and feel the new life everywhere.

But usually, my favorite kind of rain is the kind that comes lightly on and off, the kind that as far as I know is unique to Hawaii. I love walking outside and looking up at the sun, still shining bright, as fine rain oh-so-gently drifts down to meet the earth. I love seeing a rainbow stretch across the sky, the beautiful, still-magical rainbow that is the combination of the sun and rain. I love going through the tunnels, going in dry on one side and coming out on the other side to find that in the span of a few seconds, the rain has taken over-- or maybe it was there all the time, hiding on the other side of the tunnel and choosing not to venture to the other. I remember driving with my dad on the freeway, looking forward and seeing, with great anticipation, the raincloud up ahead. The surprisingly sudden pouring of water on our windshield, the wipers going full time. Rolling down the window, leaning out with my face to the sky, letting the rain come down on me. And then just as suddenly as we entered it, we left the miniature torrent behind and were driving againg through sunlight.

It's rare when I view rain with a groan. Umbrellas are usually an annoyance-- why would I want to carry one around when there is water falling from the sky? Have you ever thought about that? Not in terms of science, of condensation and precipitation, but of water that comes out of nowhere and, almost magically, begins to fall from the sky. It's beautiful.

I remember a line from a song that I think was written by the Beatles: 'If the rain comes, they run and hide their heads; might as well be dead...' Yes, on the Mainland or in the Beatles' Britain, where weather is cold and rain probably isn't too pleasent, yes, there I would take cover. But here? Why would someone in warm Hawaii run inside when they could be running outside? Why huddle in a cold classroom or under an overhang when you could drop your bag and binders and folders and devote your break to the rain? Why not abandon dignity, for now? Take a few steps forward, lift your face up, spread your arms: embrace the rain.