I don't know what it is, but today when I walked out of class at 5:50 (earlier than usual, my class doesn't get out until 6:30 most days) it was POURING rain. I even heard one crack of thunder. I don't remember exactly the last time I had seen rain like that before but it took me back to my childhood in Illinois.
In case you didn't know, the Midwest has the best thunderstorms out of anywhere ever. And in my neighborhood when it would pour, me and all my friends would go outside and race boats we had made down the gutters. Barefoot. We would run through the backyards on our street, splashing in puddles and squishing our toes in the mud, shouting to each other, our voices competing with the thunder. Quick bursts of lightning brightened the sky for moments at a time. I lived for those days.
I love Richland, but there are no thunderstorms. They don't exist. It rains sometimes, yes. But not very much and not very hard and there is basically never thunder involved. Lightning, yes. It's the desert, after all. I think that's probably the time I turned bitter toward the rain...once it became JUST rain. Useless. Annoying. I hate when the bottoms of my pants get wet and I hate it when my socks get wet. But today when I walked home from class, I loved the rain. And I love it right now, too.