Why I Love the Rain

I love the rain. I don't love walking in the rain in sneakers. Or driving in the rain. But I love the rain. I love the sound of raindrops hitting class. The way it makes me feel like I am walking the streets in Paris, even if I'm just walking to class. I love the way cities are after the rain. Like they have been baptized and are forgiven for the sins of their histories. The nostalgia that it brings. That listening to music becomes more real. Tea taste better. I love sitting my car in an empty parking lot in the rain. Summer rain when the fog pours off the ground and Autumn rain when the fog pours out of my mouth.

The rain inspires me more than any other weather. I write the most poetry when the sky is grey and drizzling. I connect to its melancholy promise. I love the sunshine, but the rain is more intellectual. Rain is a fairytale gone awry. The rain is erratic and stubborn, even when mild it demands to be felt. Similar to pain. But similar to joy too. I love the rain. It has so much to say.