Confined to The Storm

Emilia hated when it hailed. She hated the indecisiveness the weather brought with it, like it couldn’t quite choose between the harshness of a downpour or the soft grace of snow.

Just minutes ago, a gentle flurry had been coating the streets. Unfortunately, the evening had ended up degenerating into this slushy misery.

Ice pelted the concrete in front of the bus stop, which Emilia was sheltered in, neither fully liquid nor solid. It was like watching the weather struggle. She pulled out her phone and checked the transit app. The bus was delayed for yet another fifteen minutes. Wonderful. She sighed and watched her breath bloom into a grey, puffy cloud. The ice clattering in front of her showed no sign of stopping.

Emilia would've preferred a distinct snowfall. The snow had a sense of certainty to it, one that held many of her most cherished childhood memories. Emilia recalled lighting up in her room when she was younger, watching soft sheets of white cover the grass. She remembered pulling her parents outside to build snowmen and how she’d tug her friends to come and spend time with her in the cold.

On her eighth birthday, she’d created a mini-igloo with her friends to celebrate in. Emilia was ecstatic, marveling at the way snow didn't just fall, it created. It helped build sturdy structures and friendships.

Emilia had felt bursting joy at the opportunity to spend a fun time with the people that she loved. Every experience in the chilly weather sparked a sense of fondness in her heart. A sense of certainty and constant community. So naturally, she adored the snow. It made her feel alive.

The hail splattered noisily on the concrete, shattering her reminiscing daydreams.

Emilia tugged her sweater to cover her numb hands more. The air was cold, but not in the way snow made it feel. This air was different; it was freezing and hollow as it entered her lungs. It was uncomfortable and unwelcome. This cold felt irritating; it was isolating in comparison to the cozy warmth of winter.

Emilia really didn’t like hail.

Rain, however, was even worse. Emilia had no trouble determining this opinion as a child. Whenever she’d watch her favourite movies or shows, every tragic event had always occurred in the atmosphere of cruel downpour. She could think of countless romance films where her most fond love interests would always break up in the cruel downpour. Every time Emilia was on the edge of her seat, peering at the TV screen and wiping away tears, it was always because of the rain. In her daily life, too, rain was an irritant.

Sometimes, when Emilia planned a nice walk, a storm would come and spoil the evening air. The rain filled the Earth with a wet and muddy smell. More often than she liked, Emilia would have to cancel her plans reluctantly.

Whenever Emilia planned a hangout with her best friends and rain fell unrelentingly, she become forced to be confined in her room alone. She could recall too many events that were disrupted like this.

Once, during her eleventh birthday, Emilia had planned to celebrate in the park with her friends. Of course, when she woke up, she was met with the heavy pour of rain and had to celebrate her birthday indoors. Instead of the fresh grassy fields, the water games, and the sunny picnic she’d envisioned, Emilia was stuck sitting on the carpet floor. The bright decorations she had planned for the trees looked poorly misplaced against the dull walls confining her. The weather completely ruined her exciting plans. The scent of soggy paper plates and deflated balloons quickly became landmarks of a ruined day.

But as she sat on the bench beneath the protection of her bus stop, Emilia watched a couple run across the sidewalk in front of her. Their laughter chimed through the streets as they sprinted, drenched from head to toe, neither caring for the wetness. Their voices cut through the freezing downpour, lighting up the road with their joy. They acted like the hail didn’t affect them one bit. Maybe it didn’t.

Then Emilia looked across the road and spotted two friends on a bench. Through the thick fall of ice, she saw one friend drop their head into their hands, shoulders trembling from the cold or something else. Perhaps they were crying. The other friend pulled them in close and they embraced. Emilia felt a bit nosy, wanting to know what it was that made the person cry. Was it linked to the weather, or something more?

The hail kept banging on the bus stop roof, reminding her of her loneliness.

Emilia thought of her emotions through rain and snow. They were all determined based on the weather. Then she thought of the laughing couple from just seconds ago. They were happy and together, both adoring each other despite the hail. The friends on the bench—they embraced and shared a sweet moment despite the hail. It was as if the people she watched were as fluid as the weather. No person was predetermined to feel a specific way.

All of these memories that Emilia had associated with snow and rain swam in her mind. Suddenly, it hit her: All of these emotions were entirely dependent on her. She was the one who’d dragged her parents and friends outside in the snow. She was the reason for her happiness and sense of community the weather brought. The rain hadn't confined her to the walls of her bedroom, she had. She was the one who decided her feelings. All of these emotions, all of these associations, none of them were created by the weather. They were created by her. The weather wasn't a script. It was just water.

Emilia watched the hail fall and melt in a different light now. She relaxed, breathing in the cool air. It settled more easily in her lungs than it did before. Maybe the hail wasn’t indecisive, after all. Maybe it was a blank slate. She didn’t have to confine herself to conditions just to feel alive.

Emilia loved when it hailed.