In quarantine, the days turn into weeks and weeks turn into months. There is a dissonance between liveliness and a still state of boredom and tiredness; so much is occurring outside my little bubble all while I still have the expectation of academically performing at the same level I was when on campus. Even with these challenges, I’ve learned to find joy in the smallest things, such as the recent rain.
A restorative rain fell amid the last few months of chaos.
The clouds were different from the ones I’ve grown accustomed to these past few months. The previously smoky and depressing skies that limited my ability to step outside were now filled with beautiful gray and puffy storm clouds.
Because my hometown is nestled in the San Gabriel Valley (SGV), I’m able to see the mountains that encompass the region right from my window. With the fires, however, it felt like the mountains ceased to exist. I remember looking out the window for weeks and viewing blankets of smoke devour the mountains. I always knew they were there, and once conditions began to improve and I was able to see the mountains anew, it felt like I saw an old friend.
The mountains look happier now that rain has poured. They’re topped with snow and are smiling down at the SGV.
Once the rain passed, I slipped on my trusty black Chelsea rain boots and went on a stroll. The smell of fresh rain filled my lungs and relaxed me. My hair soaked in humidity and grew curly and frizzy. It was nice to step outside and think about how I used to splash in puddles. There’s something about the pitter-patter of raindrops that puts my mind at ease.
Raindrops journey down each strand of grass and make contact with the ground, replenishing the soil. The blue skies sharply contrast the mountains’ snowy caps. The rain signaled a transition: the end of the quarter and election week, and the start of a more clear and positive mind to complete the quarter accompanied by a sense of hope for what’s to come.
Contact Rosana Maris Arias at rosmar18 ‘at’ stanford.edu.