Profundity in Precipitation

I always feel so profound when it rains… Like it is time for me to start writing my book… Or to continue writing… to spill out and pour out lines worth quoting, thoughts by which to live each day, a guide to life in ten words or fewer as a page-a-day calendar – as the rain pours around me, words pour from me…

Perhaps it is a sign that I need to go somewhere like Washington to write my book, so I can be often in the rain…

Perhaps… perhaps… perhaps…

Post-a-day 2019

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A doubly dry spell

The wells of the sky now seem to be dry.

And I,

Alone again in my room,

Singularly sigh.

“I feel you, skies… I feel you…

Today was not as expected,

And I can’t quite tell if I am preparing to burst into song – somewhere way in the near future – or am replenishing the water within, that I might, once again, let it all flow forth, releasing all of this ick inside that cannot abide…

Ugh…”

Post-a-day 2019

This storm inside has moved outside

Desperation seems to fill my insides…

My heart rate rises, ever so slowly,

As the rain pounds…

Kilos…

Down, and down, and down…

And the lighting in the sky lights my room through the skylights,

in full and varied, rapid, never-ceasing flashes…

And the fans blow,

Because this is Houston…

And the noise is like pressure on my chest, weighing me, pushing on me, toward the ground…

I hunch over, ever so slightly, at first,

And find myself, ten minutes later, almost in a seated ball, so hunched have I become…

Avoiding the pounds… kilos… of the rain overhead…

And I am tired, physically and mentally, and sleepy, with near/exhausted eyes…

Yet I cannot seem to turn out this little light of mine, this little lamp of warm, glowy, salt-lamp-covered light… my beacon in this night, my comfort, my accompaniment, my almost friend…

The storm reigns tonight, and the lighting has something to SAY, even if the thunder is only background… yes, this lightning has something to say, and it is saying it with much fervor and a demand to be noticed…

I can hear it, whether my eyes are watching it or not…

Yes, I can hear it…

She has much to say tonight…

Post-a-day 2019

rainy days hold my heart

There’s something about rain that makes everything in life seem okay.  Sure, when the rain is more like a torrential downpour that includes flooding all around town, things don’t seem so great.  However, regular rain, rain like early this afternoon, with sunlight still visible here and there, that kind of rain is the perfect rain for life.

I never feel like a trapped kid on rainy days; I always feel almost liberated due to all of the creativity and possibility of life indoors for just one day.  Board games and reading and art projects are a few of my favorite things, and rainy days tend to put them as the likely activities, removing the social expectation to be “more productive” with one’s time than sitting about, doing silly but fun things with ones one loves.  Perhaps, too, I enjoy the fact that I can be certain that I am not “missing out” on anything out in the world when it is raining, because no one else it out doing anything either.  Perhaps…

I remember a day a year and a half ago, when I lay on the floor with my cat, just hanging out while the sky released its water.  We even went and sat on the covered walkway right outside the apartment door, watching the rain and the clouds together, smelling the sun-touched rain and its clouds.  That was a beautiful day.

 

Post-a-day 2017

Diving boards and rains

I never appreciated rain so much as when I was a lifeguard.  I enjoyed that I was wonderfully trained and fit, both mentally and physically, and I liked the honor of the job, as well as the decent pay and good tan. However, I felt like a bit of a nervous wreck when it came down to it.  If there were only a handful of people at a pool, it was all right – it felt like just a normal day at a pool.  When there were several people, a party, even, I was okay, actually.  The only time I was actually a nervous wreck, now that I really think about it, was when we were waiting for people to show up.  When the pool was empty, my imagination worked my anxiety to the roof and beyond.  Even before I arrived for a shift, I would be a mess inside, somewhat terrified of what might come at my next shift.  I knew I didn’t have near the likelihood of beach lifeguards of having to save someone or having to treat a swimmer with any First Aid skills (or dealing with a shark), but it only comforted so much to know that the chances were merely lower than likely, as opposed to being near zero.

Somehow, I made it through that summer, though.  I never did go back to lifeguarding, riding on the excuse that the company for which I had worked had closed, and so all of my credentials and paperwork disappeared with their closing (ignoring the fact that the owners of the company were parents of a friend and schoolmate).

Speaking of that friend and schoolmate, we only really became friends after that summer, but we were in band together before then, and so were loose acquaintances.  We had our first one-on-one that summer, lifeguarding.  He was all about making money, and so he showed up to lifeguard what seemed like every time somebody had to cancel on a shift.  We only worked together once, but I remember it clearly still. Well, I remember most of it clearly, anyway.

No one showed up to swim that day. (This is the part where I’m unclear.  There might have been one or two  small groups who did show up eventually, but it was only a short while, and somewhere near the middle or end of the day.).  It sprinkled some during the day, warding off swimmers.  We, however, did do some swimming of our own.
It was during this swimming that Inwas confronted with a fear of mine: diving boards.  I really am uncertain as to how the fear developed, but it did somehow.  When I was little, I would run and/or jump off of any diving board around, even the long, tall ones at public pools.  But by this time, high school, I was terrified of a board that had too much spring.  Most public pool diving boards would go down a good couple or even few feet when an adult sprang from them.  And my faith in the boards not breaking, as well as the jumpers not slipping, was low.  This applied to anyone as the jumper, even myself, and even the most advanced diver.  I think I was just panicked that the board would break off, and smack the jumper in the head, knocking out him/her, and resulting in serious injury.  I once attempted a cartwheel off a home diving board at the neighbors’ house, and I ended up grabbing on to the end of the board, and falling legs first into the water, scratching my stomach on the board as I held tight to it with my hands (think of jumping out of a pool in reverse, and scratching your stomach on the side as you do it).  But that never had anything to do with the spring of the board; that one was rather solid and non-springy.  Plus, I kept using boards for years after that specific incident, though I was aware of potential danger from there on out.

Anyway, on that particular day, working together, this fellow lifeguard and school mate convinced me to jump off the diving board.  It took me a while, and I was really reasoning with him against doing it, even as I stood atop it, but I eventually did it.  I might even have done it multiple times, actually.  All I remember about that part was that I finally did jump off, and I was okay about it.  

And, I believe, I have been ever since.  I still have to go check how much bounce awaits me before I actually do whatever jump I do, but I can do it, and I don’t feel like I am going insane each time.

Post-a-day 2017

A compliment to remember

About a year or two ago (though, I think it was two years ago), I received one of the most memorable compliments I have ever been given.  I was reminded of it today, as my mom and I drove around in the sunny daylight that was following our storm so nicely.  With all of the rain and flooding, many people have pulled out their trucks and boats, and gone to the rescue of those in need of water transportation in areas that formerly were roads (and which, I suppose, likely still are, just beneath all that water now).  For this reason, I was reminded of a particular friend of mine who has a boat.  (Or, at least, he did have a boat when we last were in touch.  Currently, I’m not so sure, because we simply haven’t been much in touch since I moved to Japan.)

This particular friend was a childhood friend.  In fact, he was one of the neighborhood kids. I secretly – or so I thought – had crushes on him and his brothers when we were all little, and we all would play together all along the street, the whole lot of kids.  Anyway, as everyone moved off to college and parents moved off the street, a lot of us rather lost touch.  Here in there, though, we each would see others briefly in life.  About two years ago, this happened for me with this particular friend and his brothers.

We were at a country-western bar/dance club in Houston, and I recognized them.  Sure, they were all massive men compared to the last time I had seen them, when they were all possibly in college.  Big and strong, burly men was an easy way to describe the guys who stood before me in this bar.  I was amazed, though delighted – I guess scrawny little boys can grow up to be big, strong men, after all. 😛

It was as I was talking with one of them that the memorable compliment came.  He said to me simply, “You’re gorgeous.”  And he said it multiple times.  I’m not sure how many times exactly, but I know that it was more than once.  What really stood out about it was not so much the words (though they were amazing), as how he said them.  I can still hear it, even, it was so impactful.  He did not say them in any condescending way – ‘How unexpected that you would be gorgeous,’ – or as though he were hitting on me – ‘Hey, let’s go to my place, gorgeous.’  He was simply stating something he believed, and earnestly, with feeling.  It reminded me of how girlfriends (true ones, not the fake kind) might talk to the girlfriend who has just found the perfect dress for something, and is thrilled, or who is all dressed up for a big date or presentation or her wedding – there is no jealousy or dishonesty, but pure love and honesty in the declaration of her being gorgeous in that dress.  He wasn’t being sleazy, but truly gentleman-like, and it was amazing. It really was.

And that was it.

Because of this brief interaction I had with this friend, he has remained in my regular thoughts these past couple-ish years.  Every so often, I am reminded of him, and I am grateful for him, and I wonder how he is doing (and I usually get distracted by something or other before I am able to send him any kind of message to check in, but I occasionally manage it).  This weekend especially, I have wondered how he is doing, over and over again, and I finally managed, after however many days this storm has been, to check in with him.  It was brief, but I made contact and found out that he and his family are doing okay.  They all hold special places in my heart, because of their various roles in my childhood, but he has an especially dear one, thanks to his beautiful compliment, whenever that was.

Post-a-day 2017