For once it’s raining in Berkeley. It’s raining and I imagine that plants everywhere rejoice, perhaps even the ones in my office building see the rain outside.

It’s icy rain, rain that makes my hands numb on my handlebars and my bike seat wet.

Rain that makes the roads slippery and slightly flooded, rain that makes me narrowly avoid a bike-on-bike crash on the way back from visiting my old landlord.

Rain that reminds me of the one time I was biking home from Schoolhouse Language Center and carefully avoiding all the puddles on the road, outfitted in my rain jacket, only for a motor scooter to drive by me and splash a pool of water on my legs.

Rain that calls me back to those dreary days in Northwest London, sipping tea after school with my mom and watching the downpour outside.

Rain that is torrential and abysmal yet beautiful and enchanting.