I used to love to listen to the rain. It was peaceful and wonderful. Then severe weather and my responsibilities at the radio station took over. I couldn’t enjoy the rain anymore. All I could do was curse as I was stuck in a studio giving important, yet boring information to the listeners of my station.
But tonight was something different. The severe storms were nowhere near and I got to go out and just listen to the rain. Listen as each patter of rain hit something different and made a slightly different noise.
I heard the fire trucks roll as the lightning flashed and as the thunder rolled across the plains of West Texas I found myself loving listening to the rain again.
I remember the day I first hated the rain. Angie and I had broken up in one of the many fights that littered our relationship. I had invited a friend over for a drink and to watch the storm. We sat in my candle lit apartment and she and I just watched the rain.
Then Angie came over to “return something of mine”. Yes, it was an excuse to see who I was seeing at the time but there was something about it that bothered me.
“We used to listen to the rain together,” Angie said.
“And now I am listening to the rain and Mozart with her,” said I.
“Asshole” was Angie’s quick comeback, which caused my date to quickly leave.
I sat there as Angie walked away in her smug “I spoiled that encounter!” mood and tried to listen to the rain.
But all I heard was her words. We used to…
Such hurtful and painful words to me they were, but they had no meaning. There was nothing in the listening of rain, just something we used to do when she first moved here to Texas.
Why does listening to rain mean I am cheating on her?
I was defiant and tried to hear the same sounds, smell the same smell, and feel the same emotions that I used to.
But it was lost.
I had lost the touch to smell the rain, to hear the splatter on a leaf, to be able to anticipate the thunder, to be able to choreograph the lightning. For that was the greatest feeling in the world!
But I had lost it, until tonight. I had lost the adrenaline flowing as the thunder approached but tonight it flowed. I had lost the ability to smell the lightning, but the acidic smell filled my nostrils. And the sounds, the wonderful sounds that I am hearing engulf me as I sit in my car typing this. It is such a great thing to do, get something that is lost and find it again.
I have found things that I thought were long lost and gone in these last couple of weeks, some slowly and surely, some with passion. There are issues in my life I am addressing. I am taking care of my responsibilities and needs of family and myself. Some things cannot be solved in one sitting. Some will never be solved. But instead of racking my brain, making myself miserable, I am just taking one thing at a time.
Love? Not looking for it. Can’t help it if I don’t find it, and will deal with it when I do.
My kids will be coming to see me soon and I cannot change the way they feel about their mother or me in 9 days. So why try. Just give them unconditional love and the benefits will come.
I could look at all the improbabilities of my job and the issues I have to deal with daily.
But, instead I am taking my time, enjoying the moment and smiling, for sometimes you just have to turn off the lights, open the windows and listen to the rain.
One thought on “Rain”
I remember the last time I listened to the rain. Jon and I were out of the balcony of our apartment in TN when out of no where, it started to pour down rain. I was two months along with my son (ours at the time, I suppose) and I leaned over the beam and let the rain soak my hair. I’m smiling now just thinking about it. And Jon just sat there, staring at me like I was insane. And I told him that rain smells so clean, so perfect. He rolled his eyes at me and went inside.
You’re right Sean, I too am guilty of losing that passion. It rained this morning as I was driving the Eclipse to work. And I just turned on the wipers and didn’t think a damn thing about it. How sad. Well next time, I vow to go out and let my hair soak again.
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