Tuesday
Aug192008
O hai
Tuesday, August 19, 2008 at 08:39PM
It's been raining all night, a steady soothing rain that forced me to abandon all productivity and curl up on my bed with an entertaining book. Got to work, finally, by 11pm, finished by 1:00am, the rain still slooshing, shushing down. Realized when I walked out to my car to get my teaching bag that I really didn't want to go back inside. I did, and finished my work, but left my raincoat on while I did so, and when I got up to go to bed, somehow I went outside instead and wandered up my street a little.
Both sides of the street I live on now are more or less solid greenery. A few houses are set back behind green yards. Trees arc overhead, so I hear the rain quite well but don't feel it so much. The road's deserted--I peer down it and see the intermittent stripes of yellow streetlight splashing down onto the gleaming black road. The air smells of clean greenness and I feel a little bit naughty for being up so late when I have to get up so early, but the night is warm and the rain is wet and for the first time in weeks--months?--I feel relaxed, simple, clear. It is raining.
One car passes. I hear the waily, latinish music drifting from its open window. Behind me, I hear it stop, reverse. Oh dear. Still feeling calm, but grateful that I'm within sight of my house. Wondering what this person will say to me. A youngish man leans out of his window and says with a slight accent: "You okay?"
Relief. I say, "Yes, just taking a walk!" He doesn't believe me, or doesn't understand, or doesn't hear, and says again, "You okay?"
I must have looked kinda funny and lonely, my hair disheveled from being taken out of a ponytail, my bulky long raincoat unbuttoned, arms wrapped around myself to keep it closed, alone on a dark street, wandering slowly, pensively, aimlessly.
I speak more definitively. "Yes." He looks at me doubtfully. I say "I live here. I'm just taking a walk. Thank you for asking." He nods, finally, and drives away, looking at me in the mirror. I go back inside. I am okay.
I'm typing this in my new office--only the second blog post from the new house! And I've left the door to the office balcony open so I can keep hearing the rain and feeling the cool air shift, drift through, making goosebumps on my de-coated arms and rustling the paper on my desk. Oh this world. I may as well be 12 years old again, outside in the redwoods in the rain at night. So uncomplicated. Nothing has changed.
Both sides of the street I live on now are more or less solid greenery. A few houses are set back behind green yards. Trees arc overhead, so I hear the rain quite well but don't feel it so much. The road's deserted--I peer down it and see the intermittent stripes of yellow streetlight splashing down onto the gleaming black road. The air smells of clean greenness and I feel a little bit naughty for being up so late when I have to get up so early, but the night is warm and the rain is wet and for the first time in weeks--months?--I feel relaxed, simple, clear. It is raining.
One car passes. I hear the waily, latinish music drifting from its open window. Behind me, I hear it stop, reverse. Oh dear. Still feeling calm, but grateful that I'm within sight of my house. Wondering what this person will say to me. A youngish man leans out of his window and says with a slight accent: "You okay?"
Relief. I say, "Yes, just taking a walk!" He doesn't believe me, or doesn't understand, or doesn't hear, and says again, "You okay?"
I must have looked kinda funny and lonely, my hair disheveled from being taken out of a ponytail, my bulky long raincoat unbuttoned, arms wrapped around myself to keep it closed, alone on a dark street, wandering slowly, pensively, aimlessly.
I speak more definitively. "Yes." He looks at me doubtfully. I say "I live here. I'm just taking a walk. Thank you for asking." He nods, finally, and drives away, looking at me in the mirror. I go back inside. I am okay.
I'm typing this in my new office--only the second blog post from the new house! And I've left the door to the office balcony open so I can keep hearing the rain and feeling the cool air shift, drift through, making goosebumps on my de-coated arms and rustling the paper on my desk. Oh this world. I may as well be 12 years old again, outside in the redwoods in the rain at night. So uncomplicated. Nothing has changed.
Reader Comments (2)
mmmmm... lovely. evocative.
Lucky. I lost my glasses the other day (how do I manage that? It's not like I can do anything constructive without them) and wandered outside into a misty cool night (a rarity in LA) without them. I wended through the neighborhood, peering at the bright mirror moons of the lamp posts, the light blurred beyond recognition by poor eyesight, and thought of a long ago walk we took in the woods, in the rain, at night, before the trees were pared back to admit a new neighborhood of large houses and halogen lamps. Just us in the rain through the redwood curtain in the dark.