Singin' in the Rain

::mood:: free
::music:: I Loves You Porgy from the album "Side by Side", by Oscar Peterson & Itzhak Perlman


"Come outside with me!" she said.

"Why?" was my reply.

"You have to come outside in the rain with me!", her face little disguising the eagerness that spilled over the sides of her excitement.

"Outside...in the rain? Why do you want to go outside in the rain?" Pathetic incredulousness filled my response, even moreso by the second.

"You just have to come outside play while it's raining."

I raise my eyebrows just a little more, as if that communicates all I have left by way of reply.

"You mean that you've never gone outside while it's raining? You've got to be kidding me! You have to at least try it! Just come outside and let the rain fall on you."

From where I sit, nonchalantly trying to enjoy my rainy-day inside, I look up to see her begging me to come enjoy nature. Brown eyes, pleading; face, full of expectancy; voice, dripping with eagerness; every bone in her body just poised like a cat ready to pounce. Only, in this instance, ready to pounce on the opportunity to share her love with someone. Her love of the rain. Of being outside in it. Of swinging on the swingset meant for kids, but now being used by a kid-at-heart while she lets the tears of Fall wash over her.

"Isn't it cold?" I ask, "I hate being shivering cold. Much less wet and cold."

"No! It's warm, I was just out there. Besides, who cares if it's cold! You have to come experience it. You can't just not play in the rain! Lets go swing, or take a walk in it, or dance in it," she giggles, "just come on!"

Summer has come and gone. August is here, and with it, the harbinger of fall, and harvest, and floating leaves, and death. The death of nature as it succumbs once again to the cold grip of winter. Once again, as it has many times before. Once again, as it will continue to do for the rest of time's existence. With it's onslaught of poise and beauty, though, Fall itself cannot hold back the tears for what it knows must certainly follow. For although it may shower itself with impeccable beauty, it knows that the dead loneliness of ugly Winter will follow with a certainty reliable enough to be used to measure time. These are the tears that now fall outside. A sort of tribute to the exquisiteness that was summer.

I can't help but want to do it. I’ve never before played in the rain with the purpose of letting it just wash over me. It sounds sensuously exciting. Maybe even a bit erotic. The lure is strong enough. But, my comfort argues with adventure. I’m enjoying the feeling of being a bookworm inside while the rain bears down on the window pane.

In a moment of impulse, I throw all cautions to the wind and gleefully dash out to follow basic instincts. She’s right! It has a draw all it’s own!

Once I step out the door, the warm wind catches me in the face. Lightning tears up the sky, flashing from one horizon to the other. Thunder peals, not about to be out-done. Cracking and roaring in monumental clarity to put Dolby to shame, as if to verify is dominancy over the sky even as the lion is king of the African plains.

The rain catches in the wind and lightly sprays me as I stand under the awning right outside the door. At first testing the elements, I am convinced the moment I step outside that this awning will not long protect me from the rain coming directly down. I am compelled to step out.

And I do. Walking at first. Then running. Dancing in the rain. I don't care if anyone sees me or thinks I'm weird for exposing myself like this. I am experiencing an entirely new thrill as the water soaks me down to my skin. Singing now. But not swinging. I run past the swing set. No kids play on it. Not even kids-at-heart. One swing hangs limp. The other lays half in the dirt.

She isn't there to enjoy the wild invitation with me.

I played in the rain tonight. I ran and danced. I smelled the fresh air, and felt the soaking of hundreds of drops hitting me. Alone.

You see, I waited too long to take advantage of the offer. Months have passed. And as I saunter now, I wonder. I realize now what I should have realized then. That she was right. You have to dance in the rain at least once in your life! There’s a thrill that lends meaning to life. It somehow helps you understand the seasons and their passing.

But it's also something more. I know I couldn’t have gone outside. Not then. Not with her. Don't ask me why. I simply could not. Or would not. Something subliminally reasoned against it. To bring that reasoning to the conscious would have only caused me to succumb. And as much as it pains me now, I wonder why I did not just give in. Go. Feel. Dance. Experience.

But, I guess I've changed. All that giving in represented to me then holds no significance now. I didn't understand then. Or maybe I just thought I did. Now I do. Or maybe just know that I can't.

If I had the chance to live that day again, I would want to go play in the rain without hesitation.

But I know it's in the past. I can't change it. So I wont say I would. Or wish I could.

I probably won't play in the rain much more. But I had to just once. That's what she said. And I did.