“Asking Stanford” is a series of small stories from Stanford students, each of which comes together to highlight the diversity of experiences and perspectives on campus.

Every drop of rain is so fleeting. From the water vapor of the clouds, it coalesces, it plunges down from the sky, and then it joins the mass of the earth, amorphously merged into insignificance once more. Sometimes, when I see rain, I feel this transience, and the vastness of just how many drops are falling from the sky. And then, just as fleeting as the droplet of rain already sliding off my face, I move on, off to pedaling to my next class. – Dillon Nguyen

The rain transforms our routines. It extends precious moments as people linger in doorways, talking, delaying their inevitable dash through the downpour. My relationship with rain is complex – during commitments, it’s a nuisance that leaves me disheveled and frustrated. But during free moments, it becomes permission: to burrow deeper under covers, to embrace solitude indoors, or to venture out knowing that any dampness is temporary. The inconvenience that once seemed overwhelming becomes beautifully ephemeral. – Sonnet Xu

I learned the term petrichor in my junior year English class. Put blankly, it means the smell after rain, supposedly generated by mysterious bacteria in the soil. I spend most of my time in the rain waiting for the refreshing scent of petrichor. – Sharis Hsu

There is a unique sense of serenity to the rain. The droplets barraging every outside surface grounds me in a way that nothing else does. It ‘silences’ the loud, stressful hustle bustle of my grocery store job. It channels my wandering thoughts into something more refined, helping my writing become something better. That is what the rain offers me. I do things a lot better because of it. I think more calmly. I write more clearly. I live life more joyously. – Sebastian Strawser

As a New Yorker, my reaction to any inconvenient weather is “thug it out.” No umbrella (I always forget to take it out of my closet), no rain jacket (I didn’t even bring one to college) and headphones in with some Doechii to motivate my walk. I’m always a little grumpier in the rain when I have to sit through class with damp socks, but I love squinting through my lashes to make out a blurry outline of a friend biking past me. I don’t say hi for fear they turn and fall, causing a traffic jam, but it’s nice to know they’re there past the fog.  – Jennifer Levine

I hesitate to leave the comfy atmosphere the fairy lights leave on my bed. The white soft comforter, my pajamas, my bed and the music seem more attractive than going outside. Still, I have to leave. I have class. Sadly, I leave with my cheap umbrella, which breaks five minutes after I’m out. Walking, I hear the music on my headphones and stare at the gray sky. I miss the blue sky as much as I miss my blankets. After walking for 10 minutes, I finally arrived at class. Soaking wet. I wish I was still chilling listening to music on my bed’s comfy blankets. – Julie Abreu

I watch as the drops race down my window (9.8 m/s^2). One engulfs another (cohesion, hydrogen bonds). I think back to when I didn’t see science in the rain. It was less beautiful. – Raza Ali

My mom says I’m probably going to catch a cold if I keep standing under the weather beaten awning of the roof like that, but just humor me for a moment: you can’t hear the rain that well with your janky headphones on while you’re supposedly listening to your 10:20 U.S. history class. Besides, I’ll only be outside for another five minutes.  (You think she’ll know if I try to taste it?) – Dan Kubota

Biking endless laps around Main Quad, enjoying the protection of the sandstone arcades, while watching the sheets of rain transform MemChu’s majestic mosaic façade into a kaleidoscopic watercolor.  – Helen Katz

Silently, I cheer on the left-most droplet, knowing that to the droplets, it’s a race. The car clears its throat, the engine humming louder than it was seconds ago. This sudden jolt makes the droplets go off course. I let out a yelp. The leftmost droplet is gone. The light turns green and I press on the gas, the remaining droplets flying off the glass into the dense fog of another Tuesday.  – Chase Klavon