Rain

Once again, it is raining. I grew up in a small town outside of Portland, Oregon, so rain was a substantial part of my formatory years. Like the wind in the tricities or the big sky in, well, big sky country. But having gone that many years with it, rain has come to mean something to me. Home.

I can remember leaving the state for what would become seven years of college. I happened to attend a school in a Rocky Mountain state where they do not have a great deal of rain. Instead, they have sun and they have snow. Rain came maybe 3-4 times a year it seemed. In fact, it was so rare that I can clearly remember one summer storm shower, while living in a place called Hampton Court. After the thunder and lightening and that great dirt smell that fills the air, the slightly warm rain came down. I remember wearing sandals and going crazy, like I was a farmer and this meant the drought was over. I just danced around, jumping in inch-deep puddles. Of course, with so little rain, when it did come we also got worms. Not just a few. Thousands of them. Traveling to and from the campus soon became a routine in balance and high stepping. But not to worry, no worms were harmed in the walking that occurred.

I remember the first night I lived in New York City. It was a Sunday night and I had only flown in to JFK a few hours before. By the time my friend (who also had an internship there) and I reached the apartment, it was almost dark. She insisted on taking me to Broadway Street (having lived there the previous summer). When I got there, this kid from the small town had never been anywhere bigger. Every scene you ever see in the movies with all the billboards and lights and people...it's all true. All of it. And then it began to rain. Not a small steady drizzle, an armada of rain. For a moment the world seemed to go sideways; I was just an extra on some Hollywood lot.

And of course, I can still remember returning to New York City several years later for some volunteer work. A fellow volunteer and I were heading to an appointment and it started raining that larger-than-life New York City rain. Normally, people head for the buildings and it is amazing how many people you meet that way. But this time, we had an appointment and in a Dr. Seuessian sort of way could not/should not/would not be late. We ran for it. People cheered and clapped, whooped and hollered. We just kept running, laughing at ourselves and the ridiculous situation (no umbrellas--the sky had looked fine). By the time we got there we were soaked through. Two drenched young women with small puddles forming beneath us.

There's a line in the movie Anna and the King that talks about how much of life is made up in tiny moments. Maybe you, like I, have come to see how true that is. Some moments stay with you all your life. Not because they are gigantic, earth-shattering, life-changing moments. But because they aren't. Because they are simply tiny moments of a familiar scene in an unfamiliar way, like the rain. But those moments are unforgettable and strung together become a way to understand your life and the changing view you have of the world. When I am in unexpected places, no matter how far, I am really only one rainfall away from home.