Tuesday, January 17, 2006

Saved by the rainy day

I caught myself grumbling over every aspect of the rain today. I woke up this morning and it was gloomy and grey and wet outside, and yet I still had appointments to keep. I went out and carefully made my way down the icy driveway, managed to get the cardoor safely open, but still managed to slip and bang my knee brutally against the doorframe. I started the car only to notice that the car was indeed iced over too much to drive and so I had to get back out and scrape it off.

The rain knocked the power out on Queen Street and I had to avoid all of the stalled streetcars. Due to the hydro workers, all the roads leading to where I wanted to go were blocked off. My hands froze as I struggled to keep my umbrella upright and braced against the rain and wind. My jeans ended up being soaked up to my calves in rainwater--icy cold rainwater.

I couldn't see the lines on the road clearly, and apparently neither could any of the other drivers as I spent less time driving and more time avoiding other cars. Traffic sucked. I froze as I filled up my gas tank. I had to take a second attempt at parking in my driveway because the rain outside had fogged up my windows inside and I couldn't see.

And then, in the moment between me pulling the parking brake and actually turning off the car, it hit me:
          I used to love the rain.
I used to love staying inside all day and watching the rain fall outside. I'd turn on some good music, stir up a hot drink, and curl up with my journal or my current read and let the droplets softly tick against to windowpane. Every so often I'd look up from my words to watch the drops race down the panes, warping the world outside into a beautiful yet familiar abstraction.

I used to love taking long drives in the rain. Again I'd turn the music on, and just let the road and my thoughts take me wherever and as far away as they could. Like a moving picture, the world would rush by me, accompanied by a soundtrack to make the mood as mellow or as melancholy as I'd like to imagine it to be.

I used to just take walks in the rain. Without an umbrella, the rain would run down my hair and face like a soft caress of someone who understands. Alone with my thoughts I could delve into the issues that needed consideration at the moment, having only the occasional distant splashing to distract me.

I'd forgotten about all of that I used to love about rainy days. I don't know why. Maybe I grew up. Maybe I matured. Maybe I became responsible. Whatever the reason, I'm sorry that I forgot.

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

I just had a salmon and cream cheese sandwich and I thought of you the whole time. nuff.