When Your Words are Remembered

I was recently reminded of my college English classes and of my professor, the late Dr. Doreen Fernandez.  Thanks to two friends and former classmates, I was also reminded of a specific essay that I had written — an essay about the rain. I knew that Doreen had liked it, but I didn’t realize that some of my classmates did too and remember it until now.

I’m fortunate to have had a teacher who not only instructed but also inspired me to write. I am even luckier to have also had classmates around me who shared my love of words and writing and who cheered each other on. I’m sharing this particular essay here and I am dedicating it to my college English classmates who remember and to those who always celebrate their birthdays with the rain.


Rain is falling cham-a-chamIn the midst of clamor, chaos and confusion, there is one bearer of silence and serenity, one which comes in a gentleness with an underlying presence of power. It is a natural phenomenon, hypnotic and affecting the passions of man: this occurrence which we call rain.

The rain which falls from grey skies onto the city streets brings silence. Countless commuters hurry to bus stops and wait for the rain to die down. Busy shoppers and rushing executives desert the sidewalks for shelter in the towering buildings. Children playing in the streets scamper off and into their houses. The once crowded and noisome city becomes quiet and still as the gentle rain pours on.

Many times have I sat by the window and gazed contently at the falling rain. When all else is hushed but the soft pitter-patter on the roof, a cool air of tranquility envelopes me and sinks deep into my being. Suddenly, all mundane matters fade. There is only the meeting of souls — of my quieted, drifting soul and the poignant, whispering soul of the rain.

It was a cold late night when I took a stroll under the drizzle. My companion called me crazy for holding an umbrella and not using it. I didn’t care if I looked crazy or if I would become ill afterward. There was magic and music in the air that evening. Every cold, gentle raindrop that fell upon my skin seemed to send a common message to my brain, my heard, my whole being. I was complacent, walking in silence and cherishing the serenity of the moment. The drizzle stilled my troubled world and gave me time and space to think. The dark skies were weeping with me, giving me time and space to feel. Somehow, the rain was my peace.

Why the rain affects me so, I may never know. In the rain I find soul, life. It makes me think of people, moments, dreams and makes me feel peace, love, sorrow. Indeed, the gentle power of the rain…

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