preview

Descriptive Essay On Rain

Decent Essays
Open Document

It’s cool and dark outside of the car as we drive, dark clouds hovering over the plains as fat, heavy drops of water fall from the full clouds. The lights of cars and streetlights and cars blur with the flow of water on the side windows, our speed not fast enough to force the drops to flow back along the windows. It’s not until we start on the highway and the water starts to move that I find my objects of interest in front of me in the form of the rain and the memories of my childhood that surface with them. The rain on the windshield was and still is pleasant to watch. The way the drops clump together and make small rivers that travel up the window before being slashed at by the windshield wiper. It’s calming to watch the water move as it wants, making new trails as the wind fights to push the raindrops upwards. It reminds me of a sort of game I used to play when I was little and watched the rain run across the windows. I used to always imagine that the rain that gathered at the bottom of the window near the wiper motors where all the little water people that needed to get away because they were trapped there unless they could collect into a big fat drop that could carry them out of reach of the wipers when it went by. I always imagined that they were escaping to little space pods that would bring them to the outer edge of the window that I considered to be outer space where it was safe, and the side windows as the paths they had to take to get home. When I was young this little game would entertain me on long car rides. I was never fond of the windshield wipers. The way the black arms would come to push away all the escaping water, cutting off the paths of the little droplets and flinging some away while shoving the rest back into the bottom of the window. As a child, it made me frustrated that it would always ruin the departure of the make-believe escape pods. I hated the sound the wipers would occasionally make when the window was too dry to give it a slick path to slide over. It was also ugly and reminded me of some sort of weird arm that was devoid of muscle or flesh, much like a skeleton which was fitting. The windshield wiper represented death and failure of the hopeful, little traveling droplets;

Get Access
Related
Get Access