Rainy Day Rambling

As I walked around downtown San Francisco today, the skies opened and a downpour ensued. It occurred to me that the writer in me loves the rain but I normally prefer to write about the sun. Or maybe that is just in my imagination.

For years, I spent so many years walking along beaches and rivers, watching the waves and the currents, the birds and the crabs, the fish, so many fish, and mammals, occasionally glimpsing seals, sharks, even whales, often seeing Rainbow trout, panfish, large edible trophy fish, you name it.

Also seeing people, fishermen, collectors, joggers, hikers, old people, young people, children, people with dogs, people riding horses.

Solitary people, couples, families, groups. Some with their clothes on and some with them off. Some you wish wouldn't be and some you wish would.

People smoking, drinking, doing drugs. Others, healthier habits like surfing, swimming, body surfing, or just floating languidly in the shallows.

I've been to beaches in Tahiti, Australia, Malaysia, India, Costa Rica, Mexico, Canada, all over Europe and along both coasts of the U.S.

Occasionally, I've seen an eagle far overhead along a river. I've seen people ride canoes and rafts and air mattresses down rivers. I've done these things myself, and capsized on occasion.

The sound of water is energizing to me, except when it leaks, drip by drip, through the roof or ceiling of where I am staying. On the other hand, staying overnight in the mountains of Indonesia, in the equivalent of a treehouse, is a memory I treasure. Raindrops falling nearby but not catching me.

It's a rainy day in winter here. I'm home now, warm and dry. And all I can write about or dream of is the sun. I have not been to a beach or a river in years. Making such visits alone no longer appeals to me.

Who knows. Maybe this year I'll start it up once again. Or maybe I'll just write about it, recalling the past with more vividness than any future hope could achieve. The future is hazy, like a cloud that engulfs me.

The past? I remember the past, better than anyone who lived through it with me. Especially under the sun. Of that, and only that, I am certain.

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