Read this when it rains

It happened unexpectedly. On a day when all weather forecasts predicted rain, the sky suddenly darkened. A threatening distant thunder made its way to my ear much quicker than the first drop of rain landed on my eyebrow. And there it was — rain. As I was in the middle of nowhere, riding a bike. So the only way was ahead, and faster.

As I was speeding across the thickening puddles, I thought of the thousands of raindrops landing on the trees, the road, my bike, and me. If I speed up, will I be escaping the raindrops or catching more of them?

Not that I cared. I don't hate rain; in fact, rain transports me to some beautiful moments.

Like those childhood summers at my grandparents, where rain and thunder were a sign of “Electronics off, fairy tales on.”

Or rebellious teenage walks under the rain just to hide in a dark under-bridge area, caressing the raindrops off of each other.

Or those summer nights laying in the damp grass, looking into the moving sky and accepting getting terribly wet.

Or meeting a rain shower under a Bulgarian Opera House together with dozens of strangers, all of whom had to stop their daily schedules and wait.

Or waking up from my first thunder in Tanzania and coming outside just to see many smiling faces. A blessing, they said.

See, I don’t hate rain. Rain means unexpected, a change of plans. Nature has no power over humans anymore, but when it rains, everyone notices. It is a chance for us to ground ourselves. It’s a chance to say, “Wow, it’s raining” — even if it is the most ordinary fall rain you’ve ever seen.

Of course, my first rain in Krakow got me wet to my skin. As the smell of rain mixed with dust, sweat, and shower gel, I was approaching home. The last obstacle was a glass entrance door. When I looked at it, I met a new me — with dripping-wet hair, a damp face, and dark heavy clothes. And, surprisingly, I saw a noticeable smile and sparkling eyes. The moment that should have been caught in some romantic movie. Like rain in New York.

And yet it wasn’t. I was alone on a quiet street, ready to squish into my tiny dark apartment until the next rainy day. So I did. And I started writing.

Because what else do you do when it rains?