The big, fat glistening droplets that slam into the ground that it’s like they have a battle with the dry asphalt and earth adorning the dusty streets of my home town. I had forgotten the smell of freshening winds as the grey, dusky clouds over ran the plains coming all the way down off the hills.
I had lost in my travels, the almost electrical feel that accompanies the peak of a hot and dry spring in waiting. The thousand towns had robbed me of memories complete joy of a summer’s day washed clean by chilly drops of rain and even hail. Rain and hail, which produced a weird symphonic cacophony as they rang off hard tops of cars, tin roofs and even on the concrete streets. This rain drowning in me in memories had character and attitude; it sang to me, welcoming me back home in its sheer & beautiful ferocity.
I was standing on the roof of the college where I teach as I first smelt the freshening wind and noted the dusky clouds obliterate the setting sun. It has become a habit of mine to bid adieu to the sun with nicotine & caffeine on the rooftop, a weakness of watching the ever-changing landscape of my town and world in the last rays of a never-changing sun.
As I drove home, I could feel the sudden temperature dropping and living in a humid climate, it meant a sudden sharp relief from the scorching heat that generated so much chlorophyll. Waking up in the middle of the night, I could hear the steady drip on the old timbers and galvanized tin roof and was sung to sleep with its sweet lullaby with promises of a new world tomorrow.
A promise that was kept as I drove to work, over washed streets and glistening green peeping at me, fighting against the relentless tide of the concrete jungle that tries to overwhelm nature. I could see it in the high pitched shouts of young blood that was set tingling with wetness and evidenced in the fabrics stuck to skin despite efforts to the contrary….or not.
The rains kept their promise in the flickering voltages and the drenched terrace that rippled with the droplets. By evening, it was balmy and no one had thoughts of working and concentration itself went for a walk on the wild side……in the rains probably.
The ride back home was slow with headlights almost invisible in the crowded swathes of falling water and everyone paying more attention than usual to the slick roads. Tires churned up splashes of muddy water at potholes and depressions in the abused streets. The sidewalks were empty except for hurrying figures but small bunches could be seen huddling under awnings and overhanging eaves of buildings. But for all the wetness, all the issues of water-logging, of all concerns of everyday life, there was a giddy happiness in the city today.
The city was alight with reflections off the water and the joy of the river people reveling in their element.
I have come home….to the rains, again.