I’ve always loved the rain. Longed for it, even. I would get excited just to see the sky darken, a promise of what’s to come. To me, the promise of rain meant running outside and dancing with my friends. It meant jumping in puddles, unafraid of what I looked like in the moment. Most importantly, the rain meant sitting on my front porch with my mom watching the skies open. We would sit side by side on our well-loved bench with the breeze in our hair and the scent of rain in the air. We would talk about everything and nothing at all as the rain fell before us. I loved the rain because, with each drop that would fall from the sky, a new memory would blossom with the people I love.  

Now, I am 304 miles away from home. Away from my people and the rain and my front porch. I am in a new city that’s nothing like my home. Now when it rains, I don’t get excited anymore. I dread walking to my classes in the rain. I dread not being able to just sit and watch the rain with my mom. The puddles are no longer something to jump in, but rather something to avoid. My childhood friends are hours away, no longer at arm's length to pull into the rain. Instead, I am surrounded by unfamiliar faces and a sea of umbrellas.  

I try to remind myself that under the many umbrellas are faces of people in the same position as I. Although the umbrellas protect them from the rain, their true protectors are at home, just like mine. At home, the people that I love were my umbrella and that’s what made the rain so special. They shielded me from the darkness and destruction that could come from the rain. They showed me the beauty and simplicity of the rain. They were the fresh breeze that came after a rain shower, they were the rainbows that lit up the sky. Their laughs were thunder, and their bright smiles were lightning. So, although I am miles away from my people, my umbrella, I can still remember the memories and the happiness of the rain.  

Being here at the University of Pittsburgh has tested my love of the rain. It’s shown me just how lonely it can be to watch the rain by yourself. But most importantly, I now see the rain as a sign of growth. I can allow the rain to wash over me and let myself grow during this new chapter of my life. Now when I look at the rain, I can be proud of each little step. Each club meeting I attend, each exam I take, and each friend I make are steps of this process of growth. The rain can be lonely and without the umbrella of support from home, it can be hard to love the rain. As I grow and evolve, I can learn to become my own umbrella and love the rain once again. 

Written by Ashley O’Doherty  

Edited by Julia Maynard and Julia Brummell