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THE SOUND THAT A RAINDROP MAKES



There's just something about a rainstorm.

 

When I was younger, I stayed with my grandmother for a decent amount of time. I never had to enroll in daycare or afterschool care, as she was always there to care for me. She watched me during the days before I started school, in the afternoons once I started school, and over summer breaks when there was no school, all while my mom was busy at work. She has always been very influential in my life. My mother, little sister, and I even lived with her for a while. 

 

My grandmother, whom I call "Ma," lives in a rural community, in a house down a dirt road and away from the highway, off on its own. Her humble abode is surrounded by forest, and during growing and harvesting season, she plants and picks from her garden in the front yard. She is the epitome of a Southern lady in every imaginable aspect. She expects manners, uses the switch (if you don't know what that is, count your blessings), and is humble in how she lives and treats others. There's a lot one can learn from her life.

 

Today, however, I sit in my apartment in New York City, many miles from where she lives, and it's raining. I'm working on a new writing project, drinking coffee, and enjoying the evening shower. At the same time, I listen to the passing cars out of an open window. I've always loved rain, especially thunderstorms, and the sound that a raindrop makes. I become the most creative when the weather is also being creative. And yet, as I write and silently revel in the rainy weather, I cannot help but think of my Ma.

 

My grandmother loves the rain too. I remember vividly watching the rainstorms on her side porch as a child. She would gather me from in front of the television. She would go throughout the house and turn off all the electronics, televisions, and lights. She would then grab a diet soda, and we would go and sit on the porch. The wind from the storm would blow the misty air up onto where we sat as it blew throughout the quiet house, slamming open doors along its way.

 

Years later, as I sit here and reflect on these moments, I realize how important they were to me. I realize how important it is to stop and just be quiet. How important it is to stop and enjoy the gift of nature. It is essential to stop and enjoy the sounds, the feels, and the sights that artistically demonstrate the complexity of our planet and its creation. I sit here and realize that my love and spawning of creativity due to rainstorms was taught to me by my grandmother. In a world of oversaturated communication, social media, and phones in everyone's possession constantly, we overlook the creative power of our world and forget to take time to be silent and admire it.

 

Life is loud, yet I sit here in silence. There is no music playing, no television on, and no Facebook up, but instead, it's just me, a once-blank sheet of paper, and the rainstorm.

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