Friday, May 16, 2008

Rain Song


Friday afternoon and it's raining.
Yeah, I talk about rain a lot but let me just say that when you've suffered years of drought, every rain is a sacred and holy event. Water standing in the yard. The pure sound of a bird calling a note that slides up and down a scale like a blues guitarist when the night is hot and the room is smoky and even the dancers have stopped to gawk at the man, hunched over his instrument, his eyes closed, his mind as far away as God, God right there in the note.
I was going to go to town with two of my daughters. Library, store, Bed, Bath and Beyond. And as we were about to leave the house, I said, "Nah. Y'all go on." And they did, taking a list with them. They're grown-ups. They can handle this sort of thing without me.
I already went out today, to yoga, and it was hard. Maybe it was the front coming in or something but I ached and hurt in all my muscles and joints and I didn't say much although the other two women in the class chatted away about this and that. I just wanted to find that place in my mind where I can go and let the muscles stretch, the joints unlock, but it was impossible with all the chat, chat, chat. When class was over, my teacher asked me if I was depressed.
I said, "No. Just quiet. Thanks for asking."
And I was quiet because if I'd opened my mouth this is what would have come out:
Shut the fuck up. Please.
I would have added the "please" because I'm polite that way.
So I've already been out, thank-you, and I'm going out again tonight to take tickets at the Opera House and it's almost the weekend and people will be in and out and the husband wants me to maybe drive down south somewhere with him tomorrow to pick up his vintage Oldsmobile that he's had work done on and so right now, I just want to be home where for this moment it's quiet and I can give the rain all the appreciation it deserves and maybe write some and maybe just close my eyes and listen to the birds sing their own song about the rain, not chatter, just pure notes of love for it, like the guitarist, like the rain itself, all of that so sweet in my ears that I can't bear to leave it.

6 comments:

  1. I love being home on rainy days as well. Reading, catching up, whatever. And, the smell. I can smell it coming before it starts. And other than flowers in bloom, I think that's the best smell. We've gotten a lot of rain here lately.

    I remember the humidity that would come before rain in Tallahassee. Humidity like I had never felt before.

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  2. Oh yeah, we are feeling it Nicol.

    I can't believe you passed up a trip to the triple B, they coulda called me. I need a blender.

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  3. I took annual leave today (the joys of being a state worker). A band I like played at St. Mike's last night, and I knew I wouldn't want to get up and go to work today, so I arranged to stay home. I'm glad i did, too, because if there's anything better than being home and listening to the rain and getting my little apartment all cleaned up after sleeping late, I dunno what it is.

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  4. I used to love rainy days, too. Until this spring, when it's been one stop rainy day after another.

    Gotta love Chicago weather. Or not.

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  5. Oh Ms. Moon I envy your insulation from the chatty noisy world. I say shut the fuck up in my head a whole lot lately.
    God I envy your solitude. Your Florida rain on the Oaks... God I miss that rain!
    *distant sigh*

    :)

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  6. The weather report for our area which has been running on NPR today is cracking me up. It says, "The weather this week will be humid."
    Now THERE'S a newsflash, right?

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