It’s been pouring rain for the last few days here in So Cal.
As usually happens this time of year, the locals freak out about the strange water-like substance falling from the sky. I tend to stay inside while the crazies out there ram their cars into each other on the freeway or stall while trying to traverse flooded intersections that were never designed to see moisture of any kind.
I enjoy the rain, though. I won’t start complaining about the Mediterranean climate, but it is nice to see some actual weather every once in a while. It wipes the smog from the sky for a few days and there’s something to the pitter-pat of raindrops on your window as you go to sleep at night. I mean, it sure beats the sound of helicopters.
Yesterday during my lunch break, I started smiling as cold rain blew underneath my umbrella and pelted my face while I walked to get food. My body instinctively recalled the inclement days from Kansas and for a minute, I felt a sense of ‘home,’ which now exists mainly as a place on the platonic plane containing random moments of pure emotion.
It was nice.
