I pull the door open, air rushing onto my face. The feeling of it gently brushing against my skin is inexplicably exhilarating. I smile as wide as my face allows. I've done this ever since I was young, and we all feel a bit nostalgic from time to time. I glance at the raincoats hanging by the door, but I decide against putting one on. Standing in safety under the lip of the garage roof, it's a different world just a mere foot away. The dark skies are thrilling, and the rain is so thick I can barely see. When I was little I used to think the rain drops looked like a million butterflies when they hit the pavement of the driveway. I smiled, realizing they still do.
I take a deep breath, as if I'm about to do something exceedingly dramatic, but instead I only take a few steps forward and stand at the top of my driveway. The air is confused: warm and cool all at once, one of the things I love about summer thunderstorms. The fat raindrops pepper my skin, raising goosebumps on contact. I squint my eyes to keep out as much water as I can and look down the long driveway at all the little exploding butterflies, disappearing into the air as if they were flying away.
I watch as the dark spots on my t-shirt become a solid color, the fabric sticking to my skin with a cool slickness. I close my eyes and wonder how such a mundane thing like rain can make me feel such a euphoric love of life. But that's just it. Rain isn't mundane at all. Every little raindrop is a scientific miracle that I can barely comprehend.
I feel invincible. I feel larger than life and more insignificant than a drop of water in the ocean at the same time. I'm invigorated and renewed, like I'm a new person. I look around and feel a bit agitated because I don't know what to do that would express these overwhelming feelings properly. So I hold up my arms and extend my hands as far as I can, and I spin. I spin, and I hold my palms up to catch the raindrops. I picture this as the ending of a movie, one of my favorite kind that makes me laugh and cry at the same time because it's so beautiful, and after it's done I'm left wondering how the world is so wonderful. the camera slowly zooms out as I continue to spin, drenched but oblivious and content.
Once the movie has ended, I open my eyes again, feeling restless once more. I have so much energy, I need to expend it somehow. I squint down my driveway, the dark pavement of the road looking unusually inviting. Without a second thought, I start to run. It's more than a run. I sprint down my driveway and, when I reach the bottom, up the next hill of my road. My bare feet hit the pavement in a pleasing rhythm. Usually it takes a lot of willpower to make myself go running, but now it feels like a privilege. My lungs start to hurt, filled with the moist, heavy air, but I run even faster. My clothes are plastered to my skin and my hair is soaked, but I don't mind. Finally, I reach the top of the last hill at the end of my road, about a mile away from my house, and I bend over, trying to catch my breath. When I stand up my legs are wobbly and tired, but I feel satisfied. The rain has turned into the lighter drizzle, like a comforting blanket of moisture. I turn around and start walking home, smiling as wide as my face allows.
Darby Tuttle '16