drowning man

Rain and I have a love-hate relationship. Mostly hate.

Rain meant getting splatters up your back from the bicycle tire. Rain meant sitting through an entire school day with wet socks. Rain meant standing in a boat sopping wet and cold while that kid refused your coaching and continued to stand up on his wakeboard too soon, resulting in him falling flat on his face, over and over again.

But like most things, rain and I have had our good times, and there are a few instances that stand out in my mind.

When I was in elementary school we had next-door neighbours with kids about the same age as us. They had a trampoline, and we had free reign to go jump whenever we wanted to. Once when I was about 13 we had a one of Kelowna's wicked summer storms, where the air was so hot and the sky so dark you could feel something ominous brewing.

The skies cracked open as I bounced up and down. The rain fell so hard it knocked apples off of the tree in our back yard, but I remember feeling shock at how warm the rain was. As I stomped the black canvas over and over and over again, the evening sun hit the seam between the clouds and the mountains, casting a brilliant beam of light over the valley that caught each drop from the side and sent shimmering colour everywhere. I kept jumping until I collapsed in exhaustion, and the warm water began to pool around me as I lay and stared at the sky.

It rained for a couple of days during my recent trip to Toronto. Because I was cycling everywhere (as previously mentioned, I despise the splatter that comes with mixing pedaling and precipitation), I decided to hide in the caffe until it stopped. It didn't, so I left the bike chained up and headed off in search of an umbrella. Maybe it was because I had nowhere to go, but I found myself enjoying my walk through the rain, watching the wipers on cars and the brightly coloured slickers on children. It was strange, how I could find pleasure in something I used to hate so much*.

It rained like crazy today, that same incessant pounding that usually only comes around in the summer. Still sore from my urban adventure, I lay in the hot tub with the water up to my neck and cold spring rain pouring down my face. As I sat soaking, my love for the rain, so recently rekindled, came back like a flood.

Yes. That pun was completely intended.

*Come to think of it, this is also exactly what has happened with broccoli, musical theatre and wearing glasses. My likes and dislikes have completely changed over the years.

7.5.08. Slightly increased exposure.

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