This afternoon, I got an impulse to stand in the pouring rain. It rarely rains here in drought stricken Southern California.
The air gets so nasty and dense with smog, sometimes visible, sometimes not, but always toxic.
So, when the rain comes, it’s such a gift. It washes away the muck, turns what is a rather drab city into a lush expanse surrounded by mountains touching a picturesque blue sky.
But, I’m getting ahead of myself.
It’s still raining. This is a long stretch for us (been a few days on and off now). Neither these streets nor the drivers who traverse them are prepared for rain. Intersections flood and cars hydroplane. Some people drive dangerously slow, while others’ accelerated speeds scream “death wish.”
These houses don’t have roofs constructed to withstand onslaughts that wouldn’t come close to being referred to as onslaughts in most other places.
This rain is such a big deal!
So, I got this impulse to go stand in the rain. I hoped the rain would wash away every morsel of dingy, lingering painful impressions left upon me from past experiences (some recent, some long ago and some probably pre-cognition).
I stepped out into the rain. Rain that beats down so hard when it hits the ground but is actually quite soft as it lands on my head, my torso and eventually my feet.
This rain isn’t strong enough to wash away my angst. But it feels so good anyway.
My dog is peering at me from inside my house. She glares in an expression I can only interpret as concern for my mental health. But she’s a loyal dog so after a few minutes, she takes a few tentative steps toward me. Then she barrels into a full force crazy run and bucks her body about with apparent joy.
I can’t help but smile.