A Glorious Feeling

There’s always been something about pouring rain that gets me. Since I was a little girl, I’d stop and perch at a window sill, watching the sheets of rain hit the pavement. The sound of thunder would startle and thrill me.

I love the smell of rain in the summer… sensual, mysterious and calm.

Last summer, I remember I was walking to the seafood market. The sky was beginning to get dark and people were scurrying to find shelter before the storm. I took my time and strolled down the sidewalk, unabashedly aware that I was about to get stuck in the downpour. By the time I had picked out my dinner, the rain was pounding down. The gentleman in the store asked if I would like to sit and have a cup of coffee and enjoy their dry shelter, but I politely declined. Shoes in hand, I opened the door and stepped outside.

It was silly, really. The rain was streaking down so hard, I could barely see. I remember looking up at the amber sky and grinning. The steam was running off the hot gravel and washing the day away. I was alone on the sidewalk. I remember people watching me from the windows like I had completely lost my mind. I just strolled along, smiling to myself and laughing. Before I knew it, I broke into a run. I was kicking puddles and skipping, channeling my inner Gene Kelly.

Once I was safely in my car, and drenched to the core, I laughed. My mascara was streaked down my cheeks and my hair hung heavily. It felt so good. And ever since, when I see a thundering rainstorm coming my way, I just want to take of my shoes and run towards it.