There is something to be said about a rainy day.
In Santa Clara, we always seem to lament the rain. We are spoiled by sunshine, and often take it for granted until those dark clouds roll in, the umbrellas pop up, and we realize how much we miss the warmth. We love the sunshine, the sundresses, the long hours lounging on the grass pretending to get work done. But I think there is something to be said about taking advantage of the rainy day.
Often, I think we are tempted to let the rain be an excuse. An excuse to stay submerged under warm weighted blankets and let Netflix episodes wash over us as the hours drain away. We let the rain corner us for a bit. We let it steal away hours that we won’t remember a year or even a month from now.
However, something especially special happens when we do something with a rare rainy day. A year ago, I was sitting in my dorm room watching the rain come down outside. People hunched and huddled under hoods dashed through the rain with heads down, dodging puddles in vain attempt to keep their sneakers dry. It seemed decidedly sad that people were only concerned with avoiding the inconvenience of the rain, and so I decided to take a walk.
I stepped out into the air, my feet armored by rain boots, my hood resting lightly around my head, just far enough off my face so that I could lift my eyes and look around. And I wandered. I walked and I watched how for even fifteen brief minutes, the rain managed to completely change the world. It altered the smell of the Earth, the movement of the trees, the feel of the ground beneath my feet, the pattern of people coming and going. As the rain lightly tapped my shoulders and clung to my clothes, I was hit with a force of memories from other rainy days that I have experienced in my life. I remembered playing outside with my twin sister with our matching Winnie the Pooh umbrellas, toddling around the driveway and splashing in puddles. I remembered being in Guatemala and laughing with friends as we tried to rush under the gutters of bright orange buildings. I remembered my old bedroom and sitting in front of a piano, trying to play along to the rhythm of the rain tap, tap, tapping and drip, drip, dripping outside.
And I realized the power of rain to take me back to those places. Because the rain takes over so much of our senses, our sense of sight, smell, touch, sound, and even taste, it has an incredible hold on memory. Our brain works to recall memories from the context that we find ourselves in. So when so much of our senses are overwhelmed by a stimulus, we can’t help but recall the memories from times we’ve felt that stimulus before.
Rain allows for us to capture memory in a powerful way. Instead of staying in and separating ourselves from the rain, we can go out and do something worth remembering. Adventure. Meet people. Do something unexpected. Find a way to make that day count instead of throwing it away. So that next time it rains, you can be transported back into that special place, back into that memory where nostalgia lets you fondly feel a different time. The rain doesn’t have to be dreaded or seen as an inconvenience, but as a source of reminiscence.
Instead, seize the rainy day.
