Claiming My Voice: From the darkness, the light emerges.

Being raised in Southern California offered a myriad of wonderful adventures. Family would come into town and we would take them to Disneyland or Magic Mountain or the beach or some wonderful museum in downtown LA. But not only were there great things to do, the diversity of cultures made for the best food, and you could always hear some unfamiliar accent. Being raised there, offered me a kaleidoscope of experiences to help shape a young mind.

Unfortunately little Karla hated the rain. Of course I did! 90% of the time it was warm and sunny and rain was just an unfamiliar barrier that blocked the things I wanted to do…the adventures I wanted to have. As a child, I spent much of the day in the park across the street playing with my friends or going to the pool or doing something in the yard. Because we Californians didn’t know what to do with rain, on the occasions it did rain, we just stayed inside. There was some weird fear that we’d catch a cold or melt or something.

Worst of all for me was February in Southern California. Every year mom would ask what I wanted to do for my birthday which is February 28. I always wanted to do something like go to Knotts or go horseback riding but these requests were always met with, “I’m sorry honey but it’s probably going to rain and we don’t want the rain to ruin your birthday.” Some years I could convince her that it would still be OK. I can’t say for sure, but I can say with a little bit of confidence that she was absolutely right. If memory serves, it rained every year on February 28 or whatever Saturday we’d picked to celebrate. I remember one year where I convinced her to take me and some friends to Magic Mountain, and most of the rides were closed because of the rain.

In August of 1991, I moved to Oregon. Crazy for a girl who hates rain… Well, at the time I didn’t think I had a choice. And honestly, I didn’t even consider the rain. A year later, after my son had been born, and on a rainy Autumn afternoon I sat staring out the window and wondering how long we would have to stay in. Something overcame me and I thought “if we don’t go out when it rain, we’ll never go out“. I bundled up my little baby boy and myself, and we walked to the park three blocks away. What shocked me was that it wasn’t as cold as I expected and it really kind of felt like an adventure. That day I learned that we weren’t going to melt or die of pneumonia if we went out into the rain. That started the trend of rainy walks and hikes that I still do today.

Somewhere in the last 30 years I’ve actually come to love the rain. I now prefer it to the hot August Sun that used to call me to its warm and comforting rays.

Today I woke to the sound of rain and smiled. I am so deeply grateful for all the things that I have loved, and all the things that I have learned to love. I’m grateful for my home in this cool, green, rainy Oregon. Sitting here, snuggling with my dog and listening to the rain… in this moment there’s no place I would rather be.

Ok maybe cool, green, rainy Ireland.

Happy birthday to me!