Here are my best rains.
at 17 years old,
I was a ninja on the ultimate frisbee field. We played barefoot always,
full of defiance and passion. The storms came one day and turned us into
mud-covered creatures with bright crazy eyes. Screaming across the
field, I learned how to fly for a moment.
at 19 years old,
This was not rain but the moment before and still my favorite. On a blind date in the park and felt it coming on, the electricity and
pressure and tension swirling like liquid lust. Leaning in for a kiss,
and he asks to go inside, I don't really like storms, he says. With a
punctuated thunderclap I was running across the grass laughing
maniacally dancing removing my clothes and shouting at the sky. Just
you and me, rain. Bring it on. He never called back.
at 6 years old,
Wandering from my mother's distracted feet through the screen door (slam)
into the churning of an oncoming hurricane, watching the sky in
childlike wonder. God's great grey fury and raindrops the size of your
hand falling onto the driveway like dead birds. Her pulling me back,
hysterical.
This was my first.
at 14 years old,
My first wet dream and I wake in a sweat to see water in rivulets down
my windowpanes. Climbing out onto the roof is worth a grounding, but
the cool air against my flushed skin seduces me out. The shingles are
rough on my feet. I stand, face upturned, to let the rain fall over my
bare body. It is 4 am and I have never felt so beautiful.
at 8 years old,
A sudden July shower, moment of grace from the heat. This was when we
lived in the forest. Crawling through the underbrush with a metal
mixingbowl on my head to the secret clearing nobody still knows about
but you so shhh. On my back watching the leaves above me ripple like
a river and Eyes Open for rain to fall in.
I am reminded of crying so
I do.
at 22 years old,
Radiohead at full volume and I am inside and the sky is clear. The
storm is writhing within this time as I fumble with words that
say so much less than they should. What it should say is you are magic
trapped in a laugh. That wine makes me honest, to believe every word I've given
you but at this moment I am dead sober and still want nothing more than
standing in a downpour with you and
not even noticing that it's raining. That is what this
should say, but it doesn't.
I wish it did.