There's something about rain. It's magical in this indescribable way, like something that feels best bundled up and kept somewhere safe. The soothing pitter patter is keeping me awake tonight/this morning, and so I feel compelled to explain my fondness through a partial list of reasons why I love the rain.
1. Rain makes spinning in the streets not only acceptable, but also nearly irresistible.
2. In addition to playing in the rain, I've recently become quite fond of drinking juice or ice water as I meander up and down my New York City block as if it weren't raining. Maybe it has something to do with carrying a glass on the road as if the entire city were my kitchen, but I also think there's something grand about strolling around and leisurely drinking as rain water falls and mixes in my drink. There's something about the situation that feels circular and complete, like the cycle of life on a really small, seemingly effortless scale.
3. There's a point when we totally and completely surrender ourselves to getting wet in a storm. I'm intensely in love with that sudden loose feeling and the realization that letting go and getting wet doesn't hurt after all.
4. When you don't feel like frolicking about, introversion is perfectly acceptable in the rain.
5. I once waded through a flooded area unprompted in a Massachusetts sleet storm and pushed a panicked woman and her floating van to a place where her wheels could grip the road again (about 50 feet). Other people were having similar problems so I spent the evening wading about with numb, bright red legs and a chest so happy I didn't care about being soaked to the bone in the sleeting rain. I think I only told one person (until today), but it was invigorating, like helping people find themselves in a really small way. Rain always makes me think of that rush.
6. It also makes me think of hot chocolate.
7. And Billie Meyers' song "Kiss the Rain," which I like even though I shouldn't admit that fact to anyone.
8. I like the soothing musicality of rain in the way that it violates all conventions for time signature and music theory. It's just there and constant. Then it's gone, only to return on its own time. It's to be enjoyed and appreciated, but not relied on or taken for granted. Maybe like friends or life.
I suppose that pitter patter against the cement in my courtyard is in fact there to remind me of something. No wonder I don't want to do anything but listen.
Posts
