It’s pouring cold rain here in Ottawa. That’s the forecast for the entire week, however next week on the Tuesday is going to hit 20 degrees, and I couldn’t be more pleased. I’ll have to plan something nice on Tuesday (along with the scheduled brain MRI).
But today is grey and rainy. Cold too. However, that didn’t stop me from bundling up, grabbing my hot water bottle, and going to go sit in my new used car. Zsolt didn’t get that – why just sit in the car? It’s hard to explain. Essentially, I’m trying to get used to it. I want the car to feel like a friend, and we havn’t quite reached that level yet.
Resting in the passenger side of the car, I reclined the chair and tucked the hot water bottle into my coat – zipping it snug against me. Then I relaxed.
Everything was grey, and everything was wet, with streams of water running down the windshield. I found myself staring at my neighbour’s shutters, contemplating their paint choices, until my eyes gave that up and closed. Then it really became interesting.
When it rains in my mind, it’s a uniform dumping of water. But listening as the drops hit the body of the small car, I realized that the rain was performing a sweeping symphony. Not as we’re used to it with an orchestra of violins and drums and horns . . . but with gentle tappings, metallic tings, charging waves, and constant droplets. It didn’t remain the same for more than ten or fifteen seconds before merging into some new, wet texture of noise and pressure against the car.
I lay inside, wrapped in this cold wetness yet untouched by the water, and was grateful for my hot water bottle. (Then again, when am I ever not grateful for that bottle?)
A few more degrees warmer, and maybe the car will become my new place for naps. I find it soothing to rest and listen to the rain. It really has so much to say.
8 thoughts on “The rain”
Lovely insight and description of the rain as a sweeping symphony. My car confession is that I love to sit in the car and wait for someone…even hoping they will be late. It’s quiet, contained, warm (usually), and ‘radioed’. I’m looking forward to waiting in the rain now.
I totally get your enjoyment of napping in your new car while it rains, Catherine! Your story made me think of 1) rain on the tin roof of our home when we lived in New Orleans (which I loved) and 2) when I have been lucky enough to sleep on a sailboat and have felt cradled in my berth while the boat gently rocked. Both experiences made me feel cuddled and comforted–which is what you found in your car yesterday. I’m so glad you were able to find a little corner of your world that felt right! xoxo JoAnn
I can imagine the boat rocking you.
Growing up as a child in a hot country where it rarely rained, I loved the rain when it came. It was cooling and made the world feel new and fresh.
In Canada, I still love the rain. Yesterday’s rain was the kind I like–not freezing, and a harbinger of our spring to come as it melted the snow. Rain makes beautiful sounds on a car (a soft melody), a rustic tin roof (percussion madness) and an umbrella (a soft whisper in light drizzle).
It sounds like your car will become a place where you could feel cozy, or in wonder looking at stars, or excited traveling down country lanes. Enjoy your blue friend, Xxxxx Fiesta.
So beautiful, lyrical, evocotive….
I love my hot water bottle too – it’s a hugely comforting thing 🙂
Isn’t it just 🙂
I am visualizing you resting in your car with your hot water bottle tucked inside your coat. I think I can even “hear” that rain. It’s funny how comforting things like that can be – the beautifully ordinary – read that phrase somewhere this week, and I just love it. I totally get how your new used car doesn’t feel like a friend yet. We are starting to look at new used cars and my heart just isn’t in it because I’m attached to my old friend of a car for lots of reasons. Thanks for the post, good luck on Tuesday and I hope the sun comes out soon. xx