It never rained at home.
I guess it wasn’t “programmed” to, for lack of a better word. Our home, our land—our very dimension was sculpted before I was born. Father created this world for us, and in his eyes rain just made it near impossible to fly. Thus, it was deemed useless. As a result, I never even knew it existed. Not until I got to leave, of course.
I saw pictures whenever my father or siblings came back with news of their adventures. I’d see dark skies that left the land desolate and bleak. The dark blue pallet was always dreary compared to the bright green pastures I had grown to love. The water falling down from the clouds would soak the landscape below, leaving nothing but sticky mud and floppy leaves. It looked depressing, like the very world itself was crying. When I was a child looking at such a different world from the outside, I resigned myself to staying away from this harsh weather. It wasn’t till after I began going out on my own that my opinion began to change.
I stepped out of the door into a mountain-esque clearing, elevated from the sea and closer to the sky. Like every other time, I opened my eyes to a new world unlike any I’d seen before. Unlike the other times, I was immediately greeted with a downpour of water. At first I thought someone had just dumped a bucket over me as soon as I had entered. My brother always pulled pranks like that—he’d fill a bucket up with water before balancing it on the top of an ajar door that I’d open later. Unfortunately, this time the water soaked me and then kept beating down on me even after the initial shock. Looking up and expecting to find a bucket or shower head, I saw the same melancholy sky that was in all those photos.
Confused and sluggish, I found my way under a large rock which created a shade of cover. Trying and failing to brush myself off, my fears and reservations about going to a world with rain all came true. My clothes were wet and cold, clinging to my body in an uncomfortable fashion. My hair felt heavy and it’s glow was dampened, appearing more thick and clumpy rather than free flowing. Attempting to step outside of the safe haven, I found myself immediately stepping into a puddle of muddy water which soaked into my jeans, painting them a disgusting brown. I had a feeling I could fly farther away to find a place to hide, but I was worried about attempting to take off during such heavy rain. Spotting a patch of trees that looks dense enough to hold out the water, I charged out with determination only to find myself slipping on the dirt that had begun its transition to mud. Stumbling in the rain and falling down a couple of times, my sleeves became soiled as I had to stand up time and time again. Finally, I ducked under the trees and caught my breath.
Shivering and cold, I tried my best to wipe the dirt and grime from my clothes only for it to spread and make everything feel gross and muddy. Sitting down on the dry root of a thick oak tree, I buried my head in my hands and felt a surge of anger at the situation. I took in a set of deep breaths while I tried to think of any way out of my situation. Leaving required flying away—an impossible task in the current downpour. The only option I had was to wait out the storm and pray it went away quickly.
The wave of despair was almost enough to drown out the pleasant sounds of the rain hitting the treetops above me. The pitter patter of droplets pounding on the leaves became a rhythmic chaos that quelled the pounding of my heart, and the cold air around me began to change from a nuisance to a comfort. Peeking out around me, I noticed that the reflections from the water made a beautiful spectacle of light, transforming what would normally be an ordinary scenery into something brand new to me. I took a hesitant step off of the branch I was sat upon to reach a hand into the rain. I watched the mud and grime slowly wash away, and I took another step out and let the storm wash off the dirt.
At some point, I realized that the cold had dulled my sense of feeling enough that the simple feeling of being “cold” was nullified. A strange warmth inside was keeping me comfy, and the rain falling down began to feel like a blessing rather than a curse. With a smile creeping on my face, I took a powerful step forward and ran around in the rain.
With my wet hair flying behind me and my clothes soaked, I watched the rain beating down on the rest of the mountains, a beautiful and dull landscape that stretched out farther than the pictures my family had brought back. Seeing it in person, it all felt so…calming. The melancholy atmosphere was almost like a comfort, something that could resonate with me and warm me up in a way no sunny landscape could have ever done before. I was realizing that despite all my hesitations, I could really get used to it raining.
Suddenly, a strike of light crashed down on a tree in the distance. Soon after, I was startled by the roar of thunder that came after.
Maybe it’d take me a bit more time to get used to that.