rain

last time i went to the movies with my mother, it was december, and she started dressing seemingly hours before our departure. she pulled on enormously furry boots -- peary's wife would have swooned -- fur hat, fox-fur jacket, wooly scarf, gloves. she was extremely annoyed i hadn't brought home winter boots for my 2-day stay, and sniffed at my cowboy boots. (hey! they cost $250!) "those will be slippery on the ice," she snapped. dispensing entirely with a coat for the outing had been tempting, but i didn't want to listen to her nagging. we walked through the kitchen, into the mud-room, into the garage and got in her car. we drove to the mall. we parked indoors, got on an elevator and headed to the cinema. not a breath of wind or flurry of snow touched her. or me. but my feet didn't sweat during the show.

most americans live untouched by the elements. from hermetically sealed home to car to office or multiplex. such a normal daily pattern, i doubt most give it much thought. not owning a car, i actually walk from place to place, so as the days grow darker and colder gloves, scarves and layers, not to mention an extra pair of socks, must be part of my sartorial plan. leaving the house for the day requires forethought. weather here can go from briskly sunny to a whipping storm in moments, so i've got an umbrella in my bag more often than not, and mittens stuffed in the pockets of every coat.

sundays like today are a guilty pleasure. nothing is demanding my presence. banks are closed, numbers-crunchers have put down their pencils, and lawyers are watching the pats. it's rainy and harsh. everything is pooling puddles, and i see umbrellas blowing inside-out. nobody's churning gravel or hooting at soccer, so the park is quiet. an "upgrade" is being performed someplace unseen, so the train's not running. all i hear is the wet and the thunder.

"rain"
I opened my eyes
And looked up at the rain,
And it dripped in my head
And flowed into my brain,
And all that I hear as I lie in my bed
Is the slishity-slosh of the rain in my head.

I step very softly,
I walk very slow,
I can't do a handstand--
I might overflow,
So pardon the wild crazy thing I just said--
I'm just not the same since there's rain in my head.

~~shel silverstein

i'll stay dry and try to let in some quiet today. there's plenty of monday tomorrow.