Last month we went on a hike through a rainforest. When we got off the bus, we had to walk down the block for a bit to begin the trail. Soon, we were completely immersed by nature. The trees stood high and the roots were thick. Many plants had fallen, hanging loose above our heads. Some plants had spread themselves along the ground, sunken into the earth, decaying. There were equal parts life as there were death in the forest. Ants marched along the roots of a fallen tree en route to their queen. We walked some more. Yellow flowers littered the path. They stood out, bright and rather out of place, where pools of light broke through against the dark ground. I stared at them, reflecting on where exactly I was. I was in a rainforest in Brazil hiking towards a waterfall. The moment seemed so surreal. So forgiving. The sky opened up. A loud split, crack, fracture-like sound interrupted my thoughts. Thunder. The air felt hot, the wind picked up, and the moment felt so beautiful. Everyone knew it was going to rain in that moment. Even though we didn’t know where we were going exactly or how this day would play out, this sort of clue gave us a hint of the memories we would make. And then it came. The droplets were big, filled with anticipation. The beat was slow initially, before gaining momentum. We kept on. The rain seemed to have awaken the group. People became excited. This was different from what we had expected and made things kind of interesting. We were rather unprepared for this moment but because we were embarking on this adventure together it made everything okay. The rain subsided and we were close to our destination. It really was the journey that I remembered the clearest.