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Raindrops and Revelations: Splashing Away Worries in the Storm

Writer's picture: Colton WrightColton Wright

There's something almost sacred about rain. It's nature's lullaby, a symphony of droplets that whisper, "Let go," as it taps in rhythmic pitter-patter on the world. Some run for the hills at the first grumble of thunder, dashing for a place to hide, but others? Others embrace the downfall, finding serenity in the storm, and a clean slate that glistens with each raindrop.


For me, rain has never been just precipitation; it's been a liquid mantra, murmuring tiny wise thoughts capable of washing away worries. As a kid, I didn’t see the rain as a spoiler but as the universe's invitation to a different kind of fun. I remember slipping on my old sneakers, yanking open the door, and racing into the heart of a downpour with my sister. Together, we jumped in puddles, our giggles echoing with the sound of the rain, each splash a testament to the joy of being alive until we were completely soaked from head to toe.


To dance in the rain was to surrender to the will of the elements, to find a rhythm in the storm, and to understand the power of releasing control, if only to revel in the beauty of the uncontrollable.


Even indoors, the rain serenaded me with its gentle roar or harmonies of pitter-patter on my Memaw’s old tin roof. I’d be a spectator to the flashing waltz of lightning storms, each bolt a dazzling performer on the stage of the gloomy sky as raindrops slow danced down the windowpanes. There was comfort in the coziness of my room, watching the world get drenched in a celestial shower that promised clear skies to come.


Those childhood rain dances are etched in memory, a reminder that sometimes the best response to life's storms is not to run for cover but to step outside and spin amidst the showers. When the storm clouds gather and the skies darken in my life present day, I find myself drawn to that old innocent ritual—stepping out, face to the heavens, letting the rain cascade over me, feeling every drop to calm my mind and the stress of my grown-up existence.


In the rain, my worries seem to dissolve, trickling away with the small streams that race along the sidewalk. It's a purification, a cleanse of sorts, in the middle of an ordinary afternoon. It's a reminder of impermanence, that even the fiercest downpour eventually gives way to a whisper and then to silence.


The serenity of rain is a paradox—it's the comfort of steady white noise against the thrill of unpredictable lightning. It's both the hush and the boom, the chaos and the calm. It's an invitation to let go, to wash away the debris of the day, and to find a moment of peace amidst the splatter.


So, here’s to the storms that startle us, to the rains that revive us, and to the childlike wonder that urges us to step outside, spread our arms, and dance once more in the pounding rhythm of the rain, with the assurance that every storm runs out of rain, and every worry, in time, gets washed away.

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