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Bring along a bar of soap and a washcloth, Geoff.
I wish I could share Verencat's joy and dance in the rain. Sadly, I do not dance and feel no joy. Is one a symptom of the other? Possibly.
I do love the rain, though. A powerful storm does for me what summer days do for others. I must feel the rain, walk through the storm, for it brings me peace in my mind and soul. Night storms are best. The dark comes alive for me in the grip of the storm. I may wander freely, no umbrella to shield me. I've not owned one in 20 years. I do not sing in the rain, the storm sings to me. Sometimes in a voice from my memories. Ronnie Milsap's "Smokey Mountain Rain" is one the storm shares with me alot. When it chooses not to sing, it whispers to me, silencing my fears, easing my heart. "Hush, recluse, hush". These are the good times, for the lost, the lonely and the outsider. Cold comfort, perhaps, wrapped in the embrace of the rain, but comfort nonetheless.
Take a walk with the rain, sometime. Tell me I am wrong. If, some dark and stormy night, you meet a stranger who offers you a nod and a brief smile, say Hello. I don't mind a little company and I'll introduce you to the storm.
I miss it so.
I wish it would rain.
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