Smells like Rain.

This morning I grabbed my purse, lunch, and keys and while twisting the brass knob on our #7 apartment door I smelled it. RAIN. In Southern California rain is a rarity, therefore if you are a true So-Cal girl you tend to have very specific memories associated with the smell of it. Mine flooded my mind. Suddenly I felt as if I were in San Diego, a college student, living with my best friends. Rain made for a quiet campus, busy coffee shop, and always a reason to sleep a little longer. It meant squeaky windshield wipers, more traffic, and an excuse to buy a chai latte. It inspired feelings of gratitude towards my English professors (for while all the finance majors wanted nothing more than to curl up and read a good book—us English majors were just doing our homework). But most of all, the smell of rain reminds me that while we were residents of Escala Way, Katy Ness (now Rogers), Dawn Marx, Danielle Sidari and Jaci Perry (now Ranieri) had to look out for the hundreds of snails that would line the walkway to our front door. Too many times the crunch of an innocent snail being crushed prompted shrieks that could be heard through three apartment walls and a locked door. These memories make me laugh and made the commute to work a little lighter, because even though us Californian’s “can’t drive” in the rain— we sure can remember it.