Went for my first long rain walk of the season. I walked a while around places I haven't been since last November. It poured hard. A beautiful rain, kicking up mist and the smell of the soil, dripping off trees and driving into my face. The best kind.
For a long while, there was another rain-walker out there. I knew he was out for the rain - he didn't run like most people do when it comes down like that. He walked on his side of the street, and I walked on mine. Neither of us were in a hurry. We smoked and walked. I didn't get a good look at him, because the rain was pouring in my eyes; he might have been 20 or 40 for all I knew. But I knew he was a kindred spirit. Long black hair and a long black coat, he could have been me in a different universe.
Eventually, the rain let up and I took a corner towards home. I wonder what his name was, or if he was going anywhere in particular... I like to think he was just there for the rain.
When rain-walkers run into other rain-walkers, it's a mixed emotion. On one hand, it's nice to have the companionship, and rain-walkers are rare. On the other hand, rain-walkers are the type to like their solitude. That's the beauty of the rain. Most people run away from it and leave the streets deserted. They don't know that the rain is companion enough, if you love it.
But now the rain has ended, and I am without companion again, left to wonder why there are no more crows out on Glasgow Street, and where they went.
1 comment:
Lovely, Holls.
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