Sunday, August 8, 2010

Sunday in the Rain

On a rainy Sunday your thoughts turn to quiet things. You might walk around your living space and wonder what is missing.

You might pick up a book, read the newspaper, laugh at the cartoons and wonder what is missing. The sky is cloudy, the daylight is softened and the steady rain makes it cozy indoors. So you begin to search through your treasures.

You're reminded of projects you never completed. You think of how ideas have occupied space in your garage for years. You survey the treasures that you will leave your children: Hardened, half bags of concrete mix, picture frames waiting for the table saw to become uncluttered, and a grocery sack filled with oil that you don't know where it came from.

But the rain come in bands now, signaling the passage of a low pressure trough, possibly a tropical storm. There is no way to stop the rain from falling upon a thirsty earth. 

You allow your attentions to migrate elsewhere. You pick up a drawing tablet or a piece of fabric to occupy your hands. Rituals that thrive in the rain.

And while you draw or work with fabric your mind sows a hundred million seeds that drift into the heart of your lover. Now when I look across this room at you where wrinkles are softened by the torrents of our thing together, I smell pure happiness, a fragrant moment of bliss.

These sorts of things happen on rainy days when staying dry and warm is what we crave.

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