Right now, I’m in the library, and I’m distracted. It’s not senioritis. It’s the rain.
The weather is probably one of the top 5 conversation topics at my school. Current talk of the weather typically involves one’s dissatisfaction with the bleak coldness of the Midwestern winter/spring. It seems we have forgotten 1 crucial thing:
“APRIL SHOWERS BRING MAY FLOWERS.”
Perhaps we should hold off our complaining for another 2 weeks, when we’ll see the effects of this month’s rain blossom into vivid colors and rich fragrances. Dreary though it may be to most, this month’s forecast carries the hope of next month’s beauty. Already the grass on campus is significantly greener than it was last week.
This weather makes me think about my life. Current conditions have been less than favorable. The disappointment of awkward interviews. The fragility of my physical health. The pile-up of papers, projects and presentations. The deaths of loved ones.
As hopelessness threatens to flood over me, I cling to this image that I’m seeing from my study room window: raindrops puncturing the soil. The only way the flower buds will bloom later is to bear the batter of wind and rain now. The Sun is still there, and its rays always return to warm the earth.
Here’s the irony: I do not look forward to walking back to my apartment with an umbrella that only keeps my head dry, yet I cannot wait to venture into the puddles and lightning, because the storm is necessary for the beauty that is to come.
I can already see the flowers.