Thread: Listen (a descriptive essay)

This is a descriptive essay I wrote for a composition class several years ago. I just dug it out of its box and decided to post it, horrible grammatical flaws and all. Let me know what you think (about the concept rather than the tremendous overuse of commas ).


Listen
By Mobius88



A man is sitting in a room, listening to the thing that means the most to him. To him, the rain is the most wonderful gift given by God. The sound of the droplets can soothe him in an instant, the sound of a storm can lull him to sleep, and the sound of the wind can calm his soul. Every night that it rains, he sits down in his favorite chair facing the huge front window of his house; just staring, and listening. Listening to his gift. Listening to his prize for being alive.

The man knows all the scientific reasons for rain, but prefers not to dwell for too long upon the drab meteorological reasons. He just loves the romance of it, the wonder of it, the pure magic of it. The rain, to him is something that should not be explained but simply enjoyed. Watching the droplets slide down the window, hearing the pitter patter of them on his roof, and hearing the thrumming of the wind gives this man such joy, such total, uninhibited happiness, that he does not care about explanations.

This is a man who has a life, who has a job, who has a family and friends and things to do. However, this man always takes the time to listen, simply to listen. Even if he can’t reach his favorite chair, he still stops to listen. He listens to how the raindrops fall upon the roof. How each individual raindrop makes its own sound. How each splash is different from the last.

The lives of the raindrops are something to be envied, in the eyes of this man. Their lives are short, but also very exciting. Every time it rains he tires to imagine what it would be like to suddenly wake up and be falling, falling thousands of miles down to the earth, fall so fast that everything around you is a blur. He wonders what it would be like to see the ground, and what it would be like to know that all his friends can see that same ground rushing up toward them. He imagines what it would feel like to strike the ground and feel himself torn apart by the force of his impact.

Many people laugh because of how much he enjoys the rain. Nevertheless, he knows that he could never stop loving something so wonderful, so magical, so powerful as the rain. He tells them to imagine having the power to create raging rivers, devastating mudslides, horrible flooding. He tells them to imagine having the power to create wonderful symphonies, inspire beautiful poems, bring new blossoms to life.

To this man, the rain is a gift, a gift from God that he will always appreciate, that he will always take the time to listen to.

It is a very descriptive essay. I'd edit, eliminate a couple commas, and fix those "horrible grammatical flaws" you see. It's a simple essay, though not simplistic by any means, and evokes emotion and remembrance, and makes you almost wish for a rainstorm while you're reading it. I'll listen a little more closely the next time.

The paragraph ending "torn apart by the force of his impact," was expressive, but in honesty, when reading that paragraph, I was siezed by the question, "I wonder if this guy is in love with the rainstorm or if he is perhaps just a little suicidal?" Most find it unnerving to envision themselves being torn apart by the force of impact. I think, for that reason, I shall not wish myself to be a raindrop.

Thanks for letting us read it.