Like most people, I love the rain. Like all Californians, my family and I get a little extra excited whenever it rains.  We gather at my parents house, stand under the awning and watch in wonder as the rain falls and the lightning flashes.  Granted, my family is a little weird. I’m 26, my sister is almost 21 and my brother is 19. Yet whenever it rains we all flock together to stand outside in the cold with our parents.  We use it as time to catch up with each other if we hadn’t talked recently, time to chit chat about trivial things and time to just enjoy such a simple reason to be together.

Even the big storms with howling rain and booming thunder are calming for us.  We recall other storms we spent together or apart.  That time in ‘98 when we had to evacuate our home for fear of flooding or last summer when my siblings were stuck in Canada, waiting for their connecting flight to Europe and the rain poured down on them while they walked around town searching for the hotel booked for them by the airline.

I’m not sure how this tradition really started but every time it rains we gravitate towards each other.  If showing up is impossible then there are texts and calls exchanged.  Drive safe,  stay warm, and we’ll see you tomorrow are the gists of the conversations with the missing family member.  Anyone that doesn’t make it to the house during the rain is inevitably there by midmorning the next day to catch up on any family news they missed the day before.

When all the news has been shared, after all the stories have been told, we stand there.  We watch the rain fall, breathe in the fresh air and stand there.  Words are no longer being passed around and the sound of rain pattering is all that can be heard.  The town is being cleansed and in the morning will be like new.

Californians really love the rain.


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