The Rain

We’ve had more than our share of rain here in southern California during recent weeks. It’s been a great inconvenience, bringing with it an abundance of traffic and storm-related damage. All that being said, however, I must here admit that I love the rain. It washes and cleanses the world, turns the local hills a brilliant green and breaks the monotony of our usually temperate weather patterns. Some folks are depressed by such inclement weather, yet it invigorates me. I love to hear it drumming on my roof, but I also adore being out in the rain. There’s just something about it that makes my life make sense, bringing both comfort and inspiration. Now everyone seems to love the sunshine, but I must admit that it always warms my heart when the forecast calls for partly cloudy, with a chance of something special. To that end, I offer you the following little essay that came about as the result of one my nights out in the rain.

The Rain
I really should be heading indoors. That=s what my sensible mind retorts over and again. Go inside. Don't act foolishly. Get dry. Be sensible, reasonable, responsible ... normal. That last one always hurts the most. Yet, my heart implores me to remain outdoors, out in the rain. My clothes are soaked, my hair matted and disheveled. I’m shivering from the cold, but some kind of a fire has begun to smolder within. There is an electricity about me, inside me, that my wet skin seems to conduct into my being from the stormy night. As I turn my face to the tempestuous night sky, my skin tingles from the myriad of cool droplets which alight upon me and something more than water soaks into my skin. The night, the sky, the freshness of the breeze seeps into me, even unto the depths of my soul.
Suddenly, I am aware that a part of me is melting, washed away by the cleansing rain. A part of my life, the residue of frustration and worry that builds up in a civilized world slowly erodes away. It slips from me like a snake's skin which is discarded and left behind. A part of me panics. It longs to rush into the house and out of the rain, to stay the same. It wants to be safe and secure and warm and dry and just like everyone else. However, my heart steadfastly clings to the rain. It drags me back out into the night, where there is a peacefulness amidst the turmoil of the storm. To remain outside is to be different, which frightens me while it exhilarates me as well.
I really should be heading indoors. A thousand voices of conformity echo within my rational mind, imploring me to obey the natural laws of civilized man, to fit in without making any waves. To dry off, listen to the news, floss and get to bed like the reasonable upstanding citizen that I am. Early bird gets the worm. My heart reminds me, once again, that I have never much cared for worms. No there is something more for me out here in the rain. I shall tarry a while longer.