Rainy Day

We are in our second day of rain. Rain that makes a drumming sound on car roofs and metal outdoor tables. Cool, refreshing rain that stops periodically so that flooding is not as worrisome, which aids in soothing anxiety associated with flooding. I can hear the swooshing sound of rain as cars pass out front; and the plinkety-plunkety sound as the raindrops hit the metal awning above the bay window in our den. The sky is light gray and the palm trees are swaying slightly in the wind. The green of grass and hedges looks greener with all the dust washed off, and with rain sinking deep into the ground to supply water to their roots.

The whole city feels cleaner: The roadways, the air, the homeless guy walking shirtless down Santa Monica Boulevard as rain washes down his torso, replacing rivulets of grim with pure clear water.

The city feels calmer, as well, as people choose to stay home, out of the weather. Fewer cars on the streets, fewer people out walking; fewer horns honking, demanding the usual hurry-up pace that weekdays bring.

Late this afternoon we head to a local deli to have dinner with a friend. Daughters Sarah and Liz will join us, along with granddaughter, Luna, and perhaps Liz’s boyfriend, Ron. Gregorio is in Mexico on a trip associated with archaeology, his beloved field. He is due home late tomorrow night. Meanwhile, Ray and I get the pleasure of having Sarah and Luna stay with us for three whole days. Oh, joy.

Tonight Luna and I will come home and be together while everyone else goes to a movie. This is coveted grandmother-granddaughter time and I am happy to accommodate.

But for now, I am going to sit and enjoy the sound of the rain. I can breathe deeper just hearing it. There is something primal about its presence. The difference in life and death in a very real way when drought has been so prevalent.  I am happy that our city is getting a good washing.  We need it so.