Last week I tried for the third time to quit working as a crossing guard. Not because I wanted to, but because I don't really have time for it. And for the third time, I listened to the supervisor's pleas and empty promises.
Consequently, I stood at a busy intersection this morning in the downpour, holding a stop sign and feeling the damp soak into my skin despite my Teflon-coated hiking boots and new waterproof parka. As I watched the drops fall from the bill of my cap, I thought, "This is miserable. Cold and miserable. Why am I doing this again?"
And then suddenly I remembered... I like rain.
It was like a switch was thrown in the cosmos, and all the world appeared before me with new dimension. The soft pitter, pat... pat, pat, pit of drops merging with the puddle at the curb was better than a symphony, their singular rhythm harmonizing with the larger movement. The gray sky both blotted out and reflected the landscape, like the cobblestones in that famous Caillebotte painting. And everywhere I looked, the moss on the tree trunks, the grass of the baseball diamond, the narcissus buds pushing through the soil, all reveled in the life-giving miracle that poured from the heavens.
And though I am not in tune with this celestial orchestra as much as I would like, I heard it again and recalled the beauty of the rain.
My posts are mostly long, rambling attempts to deal with thoughts about my life and my world. If you are interested in coming along on my stream of consciousness, maybe we will eventually get somewhere...but maybe not.
3 comments:
I swear, sometimes I think I'm the only person here who looks forward to rainy days.
Very beautifully written, by the way.
I can't say I like rain. Never really have. But I feel something similar to what you so beautifully expressed here about snow.
Yes, most of the time I grumble about it, struggle through it, have to shovel it. But when I'm not fighting it because I have to get somewhere, there is a beauty to it.
To stand in newly fallen snow, that blankets everything in a soft, white cover, erasing the harsh edges and making even the most utilitarian structures look like something out of a children's story - I'm thinking Dr. Seuss-like rounded buildings and such - is very peaceful. The snow seems to absorb noise as well, so even in the middle of a bustling city, the harsh edge is taken off of the sounds too, and whatever available light is amplified as it bounces back off the snow. And evening in the countryside, or even the city, covered in newly fallen snow when you aren't struggling to get through it, but just stopping to enjoy, is a beautiful thing.
So I understand what you're saying, I just feel it with a different kind of precipitation.
I feel the same way about snow, even down to the "struggling through it" part.
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