There is a force, a sheer will of power that cannot be reckoned with. The strongest men crumble at the beginning signs of its wrath. It doesn’t come silently, no. It gives warnings thousands of miles wide; it leaves no stone unaware of its impending arrival. “Make haste. Prepare,” it whispers, “For soon enough, the water will come.” 

Only the ignorant ignore this warning. The ones who do not believe a little water is powerful enough to bring mountains down and kings to their knees. These are the first people to run when the water proves its strength, and they begin to see the hint of trouble. Then, there are those who fear the water as soon as they hear or see the beginning warnings. They hide, afraid of the rain; afraid of the potential flood. The cleansing tide of change sends them running because they can’t handle the unknown. 

The water spreads itself over the earth. It buries itself in the cracks of the ground and seeps into the pores of the man-made creations. There exists no untouched place. The outdoor world is drenched in the downpour, broken by the lightning and throttled by the thunder. The indoor world hears the patter of the rain, sees the flash of lightning and feels the bass of the thunder. They are detached and wish to remain so as they hide away from the effects of the storm. 

Then, there are the rain lovers. The pluviophiles. 

The rain sweeps across the earth. The dirt mixes and combines as it moves with the current. The tide twists and pulls shifting the even larger body of water around forcing new water to the surface to catch the rain. The storm rages on, cleansing the world with its onslaught of rain, but behind it . . . behind it comes the most breathtaking experience. 

Everything is new. Behind the wrathful is a changed earth. The air is electric with this change left from the rain. The dirt is wet and alive, squelching with a fresh feeling. The water is cleansed as it races past with a newfound energy. 

This new life is what brings those who love the rain so much joy and peace. They watch the storm in anticipation of the aftermath. Even as the storm lashes against the earth, destroying what is in its path, we wait for the end with growing excitement. The storm crumbles buildings, and the rain soaks the rubble. The destruction doesn’t deter us. The aftermath is awe-inspiring. We have been given the gift of rebuilding all life and creating something so different and spectacular. With the end of the storm and the rain comes the smell of hope; the smell of joy at the sweetness of this fresh earthly ground; the pleasant smell of the chance we are given to grow stronger in the place where we have been planted; the smell of the newly gone rainfall on the ground. Petrichor.