After a year spent being a rain-hater, I have come to the conclusion that I actually do love rainy days.
My hatred for the rain started during my first driving test. I’d made the rookie mistake of not turning on my windshield wipers in the middle of August– an automatic fail. This experience prompted the beginning of my stance as practically an ombrophobe– someone who hates the rain. I began to loathe the shortened days that came with rainy weather. Gloomy skies and cold breezes brought about a tiredness in me that could only be cured by frequent naps-not good for someone with exams to study for (I’d wake up at dawn and scramble to study what material I had left). The hatred continued to pile up for more vain reasons as well. The rain has a unique way of making my hair completely frizzy, in which no amount of product or styling would prevent my hair from appearing as if I’d spent the last hour basking inside a sauna. It also has the unique habit of drenching my clothes, where it would appear that I’d purchased a pair of jeans where the wash was darker solely from the knee-down. Yet despite these aforementioned reasons, the rain and I have reconciled this week, this is our journey.
To placate myself from growing thoughts of anger as the ankles of my jeans begin to soak and my hair grows frizzier by the minute, I looked for a distraction. I’ve done this by listening to an audiobook. My choice this week has been Donna Tartt’s The Secret History, which if you haven’t read I’d happily recommend. A good portion of it takes place during the cold winter months, a perfect choice as I drudge through my own winter- albeit a less intense one than the characters in the book- theirs is in Vermont (much colder than Riverside will ever get). Nonetheless, it’s made the drizzly walks on campus much more enjoyable, and by the time I get to class I have forgotten all about just how ridiculous my hair must look.
My next step to solving my relationship with the rain was a complicated one- my energy. I’d taken a stance for the past few years against coffee, mainly due to caffeine’s reported effects on women’s health, but these past stormy days forced me reconsider that stance. I started by learning how to use the coffee machine, which I will unashamedly admit, I had to look up on WikiHow. The lovely rich aroma of freshly brewed coffee filled my kitchen, and before I knew it, I’d consumed three cups of coffee. Safe to say, I didn’t yawn one bit that day (or sleep that night). Although this experience may have done some damage to my heart health, it introduced me to the cozy experience of a cup of coffee (or three) on a rainy day.
And while I wouldn’t consider myself a pluviophile just yet, mending relationships like this one takes more time than just one week, I’m reminded just how pleasant the day can be made from a small storm. The comfort of a warm cup of coffee, the thrill of a story unfolding in my ears—these quiet joys invite us to slow down, embrace the moment, and find beauty in the stillness of a rainy day.