When I was little, I hated the rain. It kept the fireflies from blinking at night, and I loved catching fireflies, but you can’t catch them when they won’t come out. Swimming was also one of my favorite pastimes, plunging into a cool pool when it’s ninety degrees outside is one of the best feelings in the world. My days would be consumed outside by the warm southern sun.  I remember going everywhere when I was a munchkin. When it was really warm outside I recall when my mom used to take us to the zoo with a box of graham crackers and a bunch of bananas smuggled somewhere on the stroller. We were fearless rebels. My mom always got a kick out of throwing the bananas to the monkeys as they caught the pieces with their feet. Personally I favored the giraffe exhibit where the giraffes were free to roam around in their huge pen. Every time they would come right up to the edge where you could pet them and they’d lick you with their huge purple tongues. I was even brave enough to have them lick up graham crackers from my small palms. There’s nothing more comforting than feeding a giraffe. I was a wanderer, moving around jubilantly, you couldn’t keep me inside. There were so many places to go and so much to see when you lived smack dab in the center of a flourishing city. You can’t keep an explorer inside, can’t prevent them from taking risks; and where there’s risk, there’s change. Every child dreams of changing the world.  When a child is happy, there is warmth in their touch. The south is warm, I was warm. As a small child I felt sadness only when I was lonely, didn’t get my way, or physically hurt myself. All my troubles could be solved by running to my mother.  I was constantly elated because I didn’t know any better.
My family eventually left the south, and migrated to the north. There was still enough to encounter to keep my interest stimulated , but it was no longer warm. I grew older as the weather got colder and was introduced to new things. I recall my parents showing me the dark side of humanity on the news and telling me to be afraid of the world. To not explore due to the potential risks. It was too cold to go swimming anymore, so I began avoiding the water. In the north I also began to experience new kinds of people. People that I thought were cute at the time, people I soon found out I didn’t like, people that were different in all sorts of ways, and people with disabilities. It was in my Canadian school where I made my first disabled friend whom I grew very close to. His name was Ben and he had a messed up lower spine. He was born paralyzed. There was another little girl in my class with nearly the same defect. For permanently being in a wheelchair he was very optimistic and had the sweetest smile you’ve ever seen. Every Thursday at 12pm my class would take a mile walk down the road and I was always there to push Ben’s wheelchair as we went on our afternoon stride. As we- I mean I, walked, we’d talk about things we’d do or like to do. I wanted to become a great artist or author and change the way people saw things, he wanted to walk. To swim. To run. To be normal. This was a lot to take in being a 9 year old, but now when I reflect back on those talks I realize that I should not have taken the things I was able to do for granted. Not every kid can go exploring at well. Not every kid can run. In class I would draw pictures for Ben depicting him flying out of his wheelchair and doing other things that he wished he could do. Years later my mom told me that his mom once approached her nearly in tears saying how those drawings really meant a lot to him and how he had hung them all over his bed. I never knew how much I impacted him, and felt as if I never made a difference in anything I did. Slowly draining, my warmth began to fade away with the more that I experienced. Growing up I began to feel different types of sadness. Instead of running to my mother, I began running to my room. Shutting myself behind closed doors, I began to depend more on myself and not go outside as often. Instead of dreaming about changing the world, I became frustrated as I craved for the power to change those around me.  You can keep the blind inside or take them outside, either way they won’t be able to see the world for what it really is. Now avoiding taking plunges, I was beginning to know better.
Moving to Washington was an entirely different experience. It rained ALL the time, and for quite some duration I hated it. I got my first pet here, and also watched it die. My first pet that I was overly attached to was a inbred, enormous, fluffy farm cat named Oreo. She sure as heck wasn’t any pedigree, but she was pretty as anything. She won overall grand champion house cat the first time I showed her at the fair! Fancy that…  Going outside to spend time with her was a priority of mine when it wasn’t raining. A couple short months later after her success at the fair, Oreo got sick. I never found out how or why. Soon she lost all of her dark long hair, and grew bone thin. Sitting on the floor of the garage feeding her thick gravy never seemed to put any weight on her. When I finally placed her in a box full of quilts as she began to tremble and moan, I knew that her life would soon be over. Crying over something won’t make it better, but that doesn’t cross my mind when I’m upset. My mom pulled me aside and suggested we go out for a couple hours, so we did. When we got back Oreo had passed away. Quickly I learned that no one can see your tears in the rain. I also learned that it only takes a few small inches to down; even the greatest explorers are capable of drowning. The warmth left my body and I was left with a frigid touch. Remaining indoors became more and more appealing. I kept myself isolated for hours at a time and no longer yearned to go venture. Why bother? There was no where to go. Nothing special to see. You can keep the lonely inside. Pushing aside childhood fantasies, I longed to change myself knowing that I would never be capable of changing the world.
Years went by and I continued to grow. Eager to retain new knowledge, I learned that I couldn’t hide all my tears in the rain. Sitting alone in the solitude of a closed room was no longer an option if I really wanted to change myself. I couldn’t sit at the edge of a box crying and wishing things were different.  Gradually I began to venture once again even though I was still alone. I realized that I may not be able to make a difference in the world, but I can make a huge difference in the world of someone else. A solitaire explorer is just as capable of discovering new things alone than with a team. The giraffes will still be there when I go back to the south, and they’ll still accept the graham crackers I give.  I still avert the water though and sometimes I still use the rain to hide my tears. I’m also still cold to the touch, but I’ve found that I can find other sources for warmth. It still rains all the time and the fireflies still don’t come out, but I think I’m ok with that.