My Desire - Rain :)

Sometimes I get this romantic notion that I'd like to live a life in a cool, rainy climate. I imagine there is a sense of solidarity among the inhabitants of rainy towns, small ones especially. People would come inside and shake off their umbrellas, stamp their feet, sigh lightly. Yep - It's raining again. Or still. I know. But they wouldn't say it. The tedium would long ago have been internalized. Soaked in, soaked up, used, then released - like the trees process the rain.



Or maybe the people don't even bother carrying umbrellas. Just pull on the slickers over wool sweaters. I don't know.



In this life, I'd be a writer and I'd work from home. In the morning, I'd walk the dog (because in this life I'm not bothered by the smell of wet dog) and then make myself a cup of tea before sitting down to write. I'd write near a picture window, divided light please! That overlooks my lush, rain-soaked garden. I think I would need lots of hydrangeas. White ones; May be violet ones too. I'd write and write. About what!? My imagination does not specify. Ha Ha Hydrangeas maybe?



Late in the day, my mind drunk with turning words, I'd quit and head out to seek the sobering effects of the world. It would be raining, lightly, but I wouldn't be bothered. I'd walk along a mulch path so soft and spongy and moist that my feet would barely make a sound. I'd meet friends at the coffee shop and we'd laugh and talk and watch the rain come down, a little harder now. We wouldn't comment on it. We'd take it for granted. To us it wouldn't be a gift or a nuisance, just rain.



I imagine the cool, steady rain drives people towards each other like nothing else the weather can offer. Not in a misery-loves-company way but more like an unconcious-need-for-radiating-bodyheat way. It's likely that I'm wrong about this. This is all fantasy, of course. But if I am wrong about it all, at least I'd have the rain.