Brea Jones

As I left the office today, a coworker warned me it was raining outside. “We’ve got plenty of newspapers,” he said joking because I was without an umbrella. In the past, the first rain was a sad day — it was the end of summer, nearly time for midterms and the sort of weather that required pony tails and hoodie sweatshirts.

But this year, there is something different about the coming fall. I have lived in Stockton for more than three weeks now, and it was only after visiting Chico this weekend that I began to realize my place in this new world.

Rain is a sign of new beginnings and fresh starts. And living in Stockton is giving me a chance to be truly independent for the first time in my life.

It has not been easy leaving friends and loved ones for a city that is one of the most violent in California, according to an article in today’s Record. But as the rain touched my face, I smiled.

Or maybe it’s just that I was off work before 1 a.m.