Rain

San Diego, April 17th.

Lying down staring at the windows on my not-too-neat little bed, my mind wanders. Those days of late-winter, despite feeling warmer, still mask San Diego with a chilly temperature of the pre-vernal wind. Just a few weeks ago, rain was still here pitying the season as spring was coming. A few weeks later, it left without any words or warning signs, leaving the sun reigning this so called “America’s finest city.” Surely, its being gone does bring a lot of joys to those people, “April is just a month before summer,” the saying goes, but equally certain, it does also take away a part of someone’s memory.

Well, I don’t like rain. My abhorring rain was born with my natural arrival to this world. Rain sucks. Rain is uncomfortably annoying. Rain is nothing but a big bully kid stealing away the sunshine, and possibly squeezing off the last drop of people’s energy. I have no love for rain. Starting off my new day walking outside the house, all I always want to see is a clear shining sunny sky with the honey-like sunlight spreading all over the road. It makes me feel energetic and ready for any challenges ahead. Rain, in contrast, does nothing but dragging me down, pulling me back to the house, and let me crawl into my blanket.

That’s the story between me and the rain.

But, “things don’t last,” they say, “most things will change eventually, whether for the
good or bad.”

As I type this, I think about rain, about how it has altered my perception of this world, about its being an emotional connection between me and people, and most importantly, about its reminding me that though hard, changes do happen.

The first year living in San Diego was full of challenges. The broader streets and the brighter sky, the more crowded city and the more diverse population, all was so different from Pensacola, in which I stayed during my first year in the U.S.; and too different from my home city in back in Vietnam. That time, everyday of my life was about me learning new things, observing this big world through my little eyes (literally). As I became more and more confident staying here, I started to look for jobs, and of course, school. Back then, my mornings would consistently begin with me getting up early, running to the bus station and waiting for the bus to take me to where I humorously (I hope) called “a journey of my day”. Waiting for the bus is full of fun, and full of freezing breeze, too.

Morning wind has never been sympathetic enough to spare me a day, and yet it was worse when it came with rain.

Rain isn’t everyone’s trouble, but when it rained, my hair got messy and my shirt got wet; yet I wasn’t allowed to miss a class, or a work shift. When it rained, I got sick with countless worries, wondering what would happen if I couldn’t get up tomorrow. When it rained, I missed my family back in my home country, as it reminded me about the scene of my mom tucking me to my bed, putting the blanket on me and kissing me on my forehead.

When it rained, I felt weak.

That, however, didn’t last for so long. “Even a worm will turn,” they say; and those vicious days of my life did nothing but helped me realize what they called “no pain, no gain.” The wet shirts and the nostalgic memory, the illness and the life I have struggled to live on a daily basis, perhaps, was just the beginning of my fairy tale with a happy ending. I grew stronger through every of my soaking shirts and messy hair. I grew stronger every time I was sick worrying about the future, then looked back just to see that I’d been through so much. I grew stronger every time I thought about my family.

I grew stronger every time it rained.

—
Often, people ask me if I have a girlfriend (or boyfriend for that matter, as I’ve noticed that some people really enjoy getting on that topic if the “girlfriend” question doesn’t suffice). Every time I hear that question, I smile and shrug, and leave the same repeating answers such as “not yet” or “not now,’ etc. My excuses, though vary, are mainly about me not being mature enough to take care of something rather than myself, responsibly; and that I have never really felt any deep emotional attachment developed.

Part of that is true. Part of that is not. If it needs to be known, I’ve felt in love before.

The first day I let my walls come down, it was simply because of a text message. Someone texted me: “Rain? Drive safe.” Yes, it was raining. But unlike the shy and pitiful guy that visits the city in this late-winter, it was the pre-autumnal rain. It was only 8:00 AM but the rain was hard; the sky was dark; and the flirtatiously cold wind kept following me everywhere. Those made the visually perfect presentation of what I often see in comics or movies as the end of the world. Needless to say, it was an absolute end of my day.

Yet, instead, I felt warm.

They always say that words hurt. It’s true, I guess, but they forget that words can heal, too. Unlike the common “Have a good day” approach in communication which seems socially adequate, that 3 words really stroke my little heart. The message itself was cold and flat, but what it gave me was a strong feeling of warmness and care. Thanks to it, I realized that my life wasn’t me alone, but involved relationships of all kinds; and that sometimes, stop being strong might probably make life much easier. After all, I am so busy trying to survive in this world that more often than not, I forget that my heart needs something to remind it that it needs some love, too.

And rain made it happen.
—
Suddenly, something brought me back to the reality. My mind has been wandering for a while, and I’m still here typing. Outside, the noise fades away slowly, leaving the young city in silence. San Diego at night, at least in my area, is scarily quiet, and dark. While my hatred towards rain still remains unchanged, it is undeniably that rain has taught me many things; and as any good thing that has ever happened in my life, it’ll be gone, leaving my solitary self betting hope that the leaving is just temporary, and someday it will return. It might do. It might not do.

Now that I’m looking back, where have all the “rains” gone? It’s not important anymore.

I’m still just here, by myself, after all.