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Periaktoi Writing Post

Volume 55
Issue 1

Single Visual Art Post

  • Essay
I Believe In Rainstorms
Allison Royal


I believe in rainstorms. Back in the summer of 2018, I remember swimming around in the ocean and gradually watching the beach evolve from a pleasant child into an angry villain. It was a fairly decent day; the breezes were slightly strong and red tide lingered in the air, making me cough constantly, but I was just happy to be there.

However, as the afternoon progressed on, the ominous clouds continued to chase out any remaining blue sky and sunlight, acting as a predator on the hunt for its prey. Out of nowhere, sand formed a life of its own around me, blowing in every direction and stinging like rose thorns against my legs. The sudden, unbearable wind caused a stampede of chairs, umbrellas, and tubes to fly everywhere. Overwhelmed, I began to cry. Running back to the beach house, I felt like I was fighting against nature in a war of my own.

That night I did not fall asleep in the same part of the country I woke up in. We left the abandoned beach and traveled to a city in Louisiana, where we waited stressed and disoriented. The conditions were manageable, but not as pleasant as the beach I had just been on hours ago.

However, just as all storms do, the rain eventually lightened up. Upon receiving word that it was safe to return, we immediately gathered our stuff to go back, anxious after two nights of being evacuees.

Even after the dramatic events of the storm, the scene back down at the beach was even more memorable. Sure, there was some trash and broken gear scattered in the sand, but the newfound beauty was unquestionable. Through the calm waves I could now see my feet on the ocean floor like I was peering through a crystal mirror, free of seaweed and trash. The curtains of clouds had been thrown open, unveiling a fresh new blue sky where I could even see a rainbow beginning to glisten in the far distance. And on top of all the newly revived nature, the storm appeared to have washed away the red tide, leaving the air finally breathable.

I finished that beach trip better than I had started it. The storm was uncontrollable; the beach was dry and in need of water, so the rain did its job. It came on suddenly. The actual storm was scary, miserable, frightening, and oftentimes boring. But the beach came out a better place after because of that rainstorm. Still the same beach, in the same location, but much more beautiful.

So I believe in waiting. I believe in trusting the process when times get hard and dark like that rainstorm I experienced one summer afternoon. Some rainstorms in my life are bigger than others. But now I know that they are all worth the dedication to push through. I believe in rainstorms. Because a place is always better after it rains. Sometimes you might even get a rainbow on a beautiful beach.