Leah Farmer

Personal perspectives on faith, literature, and life.

Me and Rain…

I once declared my love while kissing in the warm rain in Santa Fe.

I remember thinking right then and there, that rain and I were going to have a long, love affair. That kiss was step 1. Step 2 and beyond would take some time.

You see…I grew up in Sunshine. I have long been in love with bare feet, warm brown skin, the smell of sunscreen, and even the feel of a bead of sweat as it slides down your back and dissipates. But the love of rain long eluded me.

By way of recommendation…one way to either cure or solidify your relationship with rain is to move to Seattle. Nine months of rain. Mold in the doorframes of your car. Finding yourself checking out other people’s rain boots and raincoats. Discovering new places to hold your glasses while you walk from one place to another. Perfectly hemmed or cuffed pant legs to keep your legs from the upward creeping sog.

And…the smell of ocean, rain, and sunshine on those days in October when the rains return. The drip of rain down a glass window telling you to stay inside today and read. The permission to linger a little longer over that cup of coffee or glass of wine and stare into a lover’s eyes before returning to the outdoors. Watching as the sky changes over and over off the western coast of Whidbey Island.


As I sit on the porch of this little beach shack watching the waves crash into the sands of Portugal, I’m asking the rain to hold off. Give me a few minutes. Let me write you this love poem.

I realized this morning while laying in a warm bed listening to the rain beat the house, that rain has been a character in the biggest changes in my life. Rain was with me on the days that I won and lost at Amazon. Rain poured as I made the hard decision around my last break up. Rain beat on the windowsills of my home as I crawled my way out of the worst depression of my life. Rain met me within hours of my arrival in Stockholm to greet me.

And today rain has joined me on this vacation. This moment in time where I am becoming a fatherless daughter. This season where freedom and loss wrestle for attention and victory. This moment where I try to look both over my shoulder and around the corner…and ultimately find myself right here. In the sprinkling rain. In this moment.

Last night I stood on a sand dune in the pouring rain and watched the surf argue with the sky. I felt the power. And as the drops hit my face, I smiled.

Rain and me.

Me and rain.

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