"IT NEVER rains in LA." But yesterday, it did. I haven't seen lighting or heard thunder in awhile, and it sent me shivering, although not quite in fear. At home in Michigan, I'd sit window side and watch the tallest trees sway and rain droplets fall and pierce the soil. You can feel humidity in your lungs when it reaches 95 percent. You can see the atmosphere linger with its queasy-green heaviness. The Earth's about to sneeze.
The experience is different here in LA, and maybe that's a good thing. We all miss what we've grown up with, I certainly do; it's a pretty universal feeling of nostalgia, I suppose. But there's much to be enjoyed in walking across campus, Loyolan newspaper covering over my head, experiencing the slow drizzle that perpetuates through most of the day. Sometimes, it is nice to experience the unexpected. You can count on me to be unprepared - I've easily grown much, much accustomed to many sunny, warm days.
When it rains in LA, things flip upside-down. People get frantic. Mud slides. Hair frizzes and poofs (mine did, without fail). The walls come down. People can be caught at their worst moments. I teasingly joke with my friends that "Californians don't know how to drive in the rain" although it's started to sink into me as well. Hydroplaning, right? I fear the day I may have to face driving in the snow again...
Thank God for the rain. It's a disappointment and it's a relief. It's like a facelift for the pavement. It may grow dark and cloudy, but it's the city's best way to become brighter. The rain reminds me of home, until I remember: I am home, here in Los Angeles.
- Jennifer Pellerito