Rain Of Conciousness

• Bethia May, Grade 12, Dubbo Christian School
• Short Story
• 2019

Excellence Award in the 'Just Keep Writing 2019' competition

Rain changes how the eye can perceive the world in a beautiful way. It soothes my weary mind when I hear it pattering on the plastic roofing above our front veranda and I know then that it will be a good day.
Previous days have been humid and bright, hurting my sensitive eyes with the stark dry colours, whereas rain subdues the sky and brings out all the beauty of colour that can be found. Roses, already in bloom, are free to gently display their wonder in every hue, the green of the grass and trees shines like an emerald city under a soft and cool grey sky. Rain brings the grey, and grey is the colour of calm and comfort. Grey jumpers underneath the doona, grey sweatpants, which feel like a soft blanket tangled around my legs, grey shades in beautiful portrait photography, which calm the mind just by looking at them. Grey smoke whispering through the air above a small wood fire, whispering of family and love, of drowsy nights beneath the stars.
Rain can come in many ways: In speckles, which are lesser than a sprinkle, in gentle showers and raging shouts. How can something so soft and soothing be so wild and strong? There is nothing quite like hearing drops pummel the roof above you and the windows on the walls, stabbing the glass repeatedly while you sit in awe of nature’s strength. The strength can somehow bring its own sense of calm, the calm of being in the eye of a hurricane.
Many forms rain can take, and with them all comes the special brand of tranquillity that God crafted at the start of time. Many forms rain has, like the creator of the universe, who swept high and made the mountains and lay down gently to thread trembling petals onto delicate stalks. When the last minuscule wisp of water has dried inside our crumbling hearts, long since the last dribble of wind has left our lungs, our souls will dance in delight in the rain, free and wild with the one who first poured the river of life into his dry, still sinless creation and said that it was good.
And yet, for now, we are here. A tumultuous ocean of rushing noise and stagnant dreams oozing through the land we're turning barren one thousand-year second at a time. So much to do, say, think, plan, worry about, fix, undo. So little time, energy, motivation, strength, help, capacity, love. The rain comes and goes outside brown buildings bursting with rivers of rushing people who don't spare a moment's notice for nature calling them in sighed whispers through the glass.
But rain is never changing, no matter how fixed our heads stay on the dry doubts of our tiny worlds. Constant and pure, rainfall stretches out its worldwide arms to embrace those souls who run from the drought of this world to dance, delighted, dizzy with joy, in the gently laughing rain.