OSCAR

I love the rain. It brings a peace unlike anything else. A sense of calm. I love the smell of rain,  a musty component of the tranquility instilled by a downpour. I love the gentle tap-tap-tap against a window, a roof. The look of raindrops on a window at night - nothing else makes you feel quite like that.

Hi, I’m Oscar Reyes. I’m 15 years old, and I go to Hamilton High School. I’m gay and trans, and I like plants and musicals. I have a sister named Zoe, a cat named Charlie, and two moms that love us all a little too much. 

Right now, I'm walking home from school, enjoying the weather. And the rain, it’s everywhere. It surrounds me, making me feel a sense of safety, engulfing me in watery security. It runs down my umbrella, dripping, inches from my face. If I weren't wearing jeans right now, I'd close the umbrella and let the rain drip down my face, soak my hair, and run down my clothes. But alas, I had no idea it was going to rain when I dressed myself this morning, and I made a clear mistake. 

As I walk, I think about the rain. About how it tends to make people feel, how even on the happiest days, the rain can suck the joy out of someone. But I think that people are looking at the rain the wrong way - it isn’t a ruiner of events so much as a bringer of life. When you think about it, right, it isn’t about us. We tend to make things like that about us, don’t we? But the rain doesn’t care if today is your wedding day, it just waters the flowers. Which is funny, because even that benefits you, doesn’t it? 

And you?

You walk down the aisle holding those flowers. You breathe the air that the trees are filtering. You admire the fresh green grass on your neighbor’s lawn. 

You don’t love the rain, but you love what it creates. 

And what does that make you?

I’m planning to make a stop at Starbucks, maybe I'll get an iced coffee, sit and stay awhile. The rain doesn’t seem to be letting up at all, so maybe I’ll wait it out in there. 

I’m not walking very fast, kind of just meandering. Strolling? Anyway. A man hurries past me, bumps my shoulder. He’s grumbling about something, and in his rush to get where he’s going, he almost knocks my umbrella out of my hand. I fumble, and once it’s once again secure, I turn back to throw him a dirty look, but he’s gone. I can’t even make out a silhouette, let alone an entire figure. 

It’s almost as if I imagined him. I shake my head in an attempt to dislodge the thought, and continue my trek through what’s steadily becoming a downpour. 

And here I am. I have arrived at the Starbucks. I step under the awning, close my umbrella, and enter.