Rain reminiscences
Yesterday was a day of thunderstorms and intense rain. As I dashed across the parking lot from the office to my vehicle, I couldn't help but remember the last time I dashed through the rain in a thunderstorm. It was last summer when I was back home on vacation. It was one of those oppressively hot and humid days, and Ashley and I had gone to the Jane Bond for dinner. Because the restaurant was just a fifteen minute walk from Ashley's house, we had left the truck parked there and set out on foot. All during dinner, Ashley kept looking out the window and foretelling rain. I just laughed her off kept eating. It turns out that she was right, though. It started to rain just before we left the restaurant, but we didn't let this daunt us. After the oppressive heat of the afternoon, a little rain was going to feel kind of good. And it did, at least for the first two minutes or so. We kept to the right side of the sidewalk, tucked in beneath the building overhangs on King Street, and just laughed at our adventure. The problem came, though, when we had to turn off of the main road.
The sky was dark, almost black, with the rain clouds, and as we left the safety of the main street, we began to hear thunder. The rain was no longer our gentle friend, but pelted us mercilessly. I have stayed drier in the shower than I did that night. Laughing and cold and worried about lightning and the trees overhanging the sidewalk here, we broke into a run, and galloped down the street as fast as we could, not caring who saw us. We slowed down to rest a few times, but each time a flash of lightning and a loud roll of thunder would get us going again. To encourage me, Ashley told me about the hot tea that she would make to warm us up when we got home. I know that the original walk to the Jane Bond must have been much longer than our all-out dash later, but it sure didn't feel that way. My world narrowed to the dark street, the incessant rain and the threat of lightning as I jogged along beside Ashley. What a relief to finally make it to Ashley's apartment, to have Derek alternately laugh at us and fuss over us, and to change into some dry clothes in the bathroom and sit down to some hot tea while the cats regarded us with expressions that plainly said, “What on earth were you thinking? How undignified!”
Of course, making it to our vehicle after work yesterday was only the first step. We still had to drive home in the pouring rain. As my co-worker Lesley and I set out, I was reminded of when I moved out to Nova Scotia, and my mother and I drove across the country with my stuff in the back of the pickup truck. We faced pouring rain off and on through Northern Ontario and Quebec. I wasn't too worried about my stuff in the back of the pickup truck because I knew that my father had packed it, which meant that it would survive some inclement weather. My guitar and my books were in the cab with us, and they were the most important things that I was taking out. No, what I found about the rain that time was that it made the truck seem like a little cocoon. Even though we were passing hundreds of cars on the highway, the rain and the noise of it was isolating, making us feel like we were in our own little world. We had a book on tape going on the truck stereo, and as we lost ourselves in the story and listened to the rain, it was hard to believe that there was anyone else out there.
Driving home in yesterday's intense rain also reminded of a harrowing drive I had late one night as I returned home from the opening night at the Mercury Theatre in St. Mary's. I had spent the morning purchasing liquor, snacks and other refreshments for the after party (man, did I get some raised eyebrows when the liquor store attendant helped me to bring my twelve bottles of wine and my three boxes of coolers out to my trunk, which was already filled with ten cases of beer and six cases of Perrier water) and the afternoon doing last minute cleaning and preparations at the theatre.
About an hour before the show, I slipped into the dressing room and changed into my costume – a lovely and professional skirt and blouse for working front-of-house. I cleaned off the dirt and dust as best as I could (it had been a humid afternoon) and hurriedly applied my makeup before I rushed out to greet the guests and take their tickets. The show was a success, as was the art display in the gallery. After the show, people lingered and drank and laughed and discussed, and I circulated with the wine. The theatre wasn't air-conditioned, and we had the front door open to the street to get some air circulating, so I knew when it started to rain. This rain didn't start gently, but immediately went from zero to downpour. By this time it was nearing eleven, and I was exhausted after my day of running around and schmoozing. John, the theatre's owner, came over and told me that I could go home if I wanted – the party was winding down and everyone was taken care of. I smiled gratefully and turned over the money box to him. I found my few friends and said goodbye, and rushed out into the rain to start home. I was warned that I should perhaps wait for the rain the die down before setting off, but I was so bone tired that I waved off the suggestion with a smile and a promise of “I'll be fine”.
The drive was going well until I left the main road and started on the back road that would take me to Tavistock. Suddenly, it was raining so hard that I couldn't see. I felt like I was in the middle of a blizzard with blowing snow, except that the air was still extremely humid. I would have pulled off the road to wait out the downpour, but I couldn't see where the side of the road was. I just squinted through the rain on my windshield and sent up a little prayer that I was still on the road, and pushed forward. Happily, the rain eventually eased off a little, so that I could at least see where I was going. I relaxed and started looking forward to getting home and to bed. Then I got to Tavistock, where I discovered that the road I needed to take was closed because it had been washed out by the rain. I slowed down and evaluated my options. I had passed a friend's house just outside of town. I considered knocking on her door and crashing on her floor for the night. I glanced at the clock and saw that it was after 11:30pm, and decided against that. I was so tired, and the thought of my own bed was so irresistible that I decided to take a chance and follow the detour and hope that I could find an alternate route to my door. Happily, that's what happened, though I can't tell you too much about that part of the trip. I was so tired and the rain was so continuous that I think that I entered some sort of a trance. My bed has rarely felt so welcome to me as it did when I collapsed in it that night.
These memories have led me to many more that I won't get into here – memories like running through the autumn streets of Wolfville alone in the rain, just because I felt so happy and so free, and walking home at two in the morning one time in the freezing rain, and realizing what a fairy land the town had become with all the trees and buildings gilded with ice. I remember being young and at home alone on a rainy summer's day, and trying to shower in the rainstorm (this didn't work). It's funny how one little thing – driving home from work in the rain – can lead to so many other memories of so many other times and places in my life. I like it.
posted by Heidi @ 11:02 AM
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