All day, the sky threatened rain while the wind whipped around the select number of leaves that have prematurely fallen.  In and out of buildings, from one class to another, we all peered up at the sky, watching and waiting for what would appear to be monsoon, to hit.

Shortly after 3, the first droplets began to fall.  Within minutes, the sky opened up and the campus was flooded.  Students and professors without umbrellas threw jackets, backpacks and – my personal favorite – notebooks over their heads, all racing for cover.  Those who were fortunate enough to remember their umbrellas slightly quickened their pace while marveling at the commotion.  Girls wearing their colorful rain boots seemed to stomp defiantly in ever-expanding puddles, as if to say, “bring it.”  Some students did not have umbrellas, but made no attempt to run for cover, either; they merely looked up at the sky with a grin, embracing the warm raindrops that streamed out of their hair, flowed down onto their faces, and eventually seeped into their clothes.

When I finally entered Hillside Café for my late-afternoon latte, I looked around and saw people smiling, laughing, grumbling.  What all of them had in common, however, was that they were discussing the rain, gesturing out the large, picture windows at the big droplets that continued to fall.

There’s simply something beautiful about rain.