The weather here is fickle. The clouds hover angrily, gathering pressure until, suddenly, the blow. A flash of bright light, an ominous rumble, and suddenly the rain starts. One spatter falls like a missile to my skin. Heavy drops splat onto the concrete and two more graze my skin. “Yes”, I say to the dark sky. “Yes, bring the rain.”
But the weather here is fickle. It does not want to make me happy. It does not recognize me at all. The thunder rolls away and I am left with three beads of perspiration clinging where once there was rain.
Virginia Rain #2
When the sky is ready, then it will let loose. I toss in bed, confused by the slight moisture reaching for my legs. The window clatters. I sit up groggily, so lost in sleeping that I am merely annoyed with the noisemakers beating against the sky. 5:30 am. I close my window and close my eyes, only to have my eyelids seared by flickering white light. Thunder booms outside my door. I cover my face and slip into sleep interspersed with kettledrums and flickering fluorescent lights.Virginia Rain #3
The sidewalks are already dry by the time I walk to campus. “What rain?” the ground seems to say as it slurps away any remnants of moisture. I forgot about the morning rain, too, and wear sandals. The heat doesn’t stop just because it rained. It weighs upon my shoulders as I fumble with the campus map. It pushes down as I walk under trees and tall columned buildings. It presses against my heels even as I escape inside.
The heavy mantle of heat stretches to cover our class’s second story window. Our teacher hears the sky’s groans better than I do and dismisses class early in hopes we can escape the rain. I walk into it. Evaporating raindrops sizzle against my ankles. The rain starts in earnest, then, with big drops falling hard against grass, tree, sidewalk, and me.
I resist the urge to run from the onslaught. I’m from Oregon, after all. I don’t fear rain! But this rain seems angry. I may love the rain, but the combination of heat and rain chases me until I slam the library door behind me.
Virginia Rain #4
The rain types against the glass, streaking and spattering the third-floor windows of the library. Dark clouds highlight the white flecks of rain falling in droves now, waves. They splash into full gutters and cascade down the building.
I sit and listen until the rain ends, then walk outside. Dark splotches linger on the pavement, but the network of dry cement soon spreads to cover the whole walkway.
Just like that, the rain is forgotten.
I don’t forget so easily. The hostility of the clouds still waits, loitering over my shoulders. I do not forget the rain as I pass the small creek rimming campus and hear the happy chirp of bathing birds. I do not forget as I dip only my toes in a puddle as pass along the creek.
The rain has been here, and so have I.
