Rain Again

Last night at about 3:30 am, the rain was so loud it woke up. Mostly it was because I wasn't sleeping too deeply anyhow, but partly because I think it wanted me to go play in it. So I did. I got up out of bed, watched it out the window for a while. Saw how quiet it made everything; watched it rushing over the green of the tennis courts. Then, I thought about opening the back door and just letting the sound wash through the house, but then I remembered the weird guy I saw walking around the tennis courts for like an hour earlier in the evening, and decided against it. Instead, I just put back on the clothes I wore earlier to go play in the rain, and went back outside.

The rain clung to my hair and arms. I raised my hands high into the air and looked up, letting the rain directly hit my face and eyes, and spun around a few times. It was interesting, and refreshing...but I didn't stay at it very long. I didn't go walk around the neighborhood in it, like I wanted to because the darkness was watching. It's hard to do what you want when you're afraid: and I was a little afraid of it. Inside my house I'm fine, and during the day, I'm fine. But at night, at night is when I'm afraid of IT again. I know I shouldn't be, but it's difficult not to fear that which can do most anything and is not, like a god, looking out for the best interest of me or the world. So, it drove me back inside quicker than I would have liked...but it did not keep me from going out into the rain.

I love the rain! I love the smell of it; I love the energy of it. I can feel it in my heart when it's about to storm really good. I don't know why. There's something so pure about watching the rain, or just standing out in the rain and not running from it, just letting it wash over you. Everybody laughs at little kids for playing in puddles, but I think it's because most adults have forgotten how fun it can be to just stomp in a big puddle; letting the dirty water splash up around you.