Giving Eddie Rabbit his due, “I love a rainy night.” To be precise it is still early(ish) evening for the summer and in the distance I can hear thunder. It is supposed to be like this all weekend, and frankly so long as it keeps the wet stuff away until the sun is just about down I am pretty happy about that. I am always at my most productive during periods of prolonged and intense rain. Something in the air, the smell and chill of it, wakes me up in ways nothing else can. It also just plain puts a smile on my face.
Maybe it is because so many of our best days growing up in East Rochester were spent sitting on that porch watching the rain come down, blasting the pavement of the street like a power washer. Kicking back in lawn chairs and a picnic benches we would put our feet up on the railings, brown paint chipping beneath our heels, and feel that rain come down between our toes and let it clear away a day’s worth of work and play. Sometimes the window would be open and music playing from within the house and we would talk about nothing and everything, solving the problems of the world.
Whatever else happened in my youth I have to say mom and dad gave us that. Many of my friends would look at a rainy day as an excuse to mope or just watch TV. Now me, I loved me some shows, especially my sci-fi, but for whatever reason, and again, I have to credit the folks for this, when the skies turned dark and you can smell the metallic wet in the air, that was when it was time to go out and watch what sort of show Mother Nature could put on. She rarely disappointed.
The rain is not here yet, but I can feel it coming. I can feel it coming and for a moment I am transported two and half decades past. I am back on Garfield St, with the family and their friends. I am a kid again, getting a break from all the things that worry me as my world is washed away and the bleak routine is broken up by white noise, silver rain, and gray clouds. My world, my mind, and my soul are clean, if only for an hour.