Friday, December 12, 2008

I can't stand the rain

My sister's house. Oil, 10x20.

The rain woke me this morning. It pelted. It slammed against the house, against the windows. It smashed down, thrown by the wind, a brutal wind that whhirled treetops and trunks and limbs and flung branches and twigs to the ground. One blast of wind-driven rain hit the side of the house so hard, I thought a window had broken.

The dogs slept long past their regular waking time. They knew. Without looking, they knew. Of course, they could hear the gale, hear the rain bashing the windows, hear the trees cracking and breaking under the stress. They knew.

And I knew. I knew this rain today, but I've know worse. I've known the fragile hold of man and beast, of buildings and driveways and basements. I've known the terror of crossing a rain-swollen river, carrying a dog I love, while neighbors and firefighters and rescue personnel beckon, and tree trunks and barbecue grills and garbage cans fly past on the foaming, churning, thigh-high rush of current.

There's no longer a reason for me to be frightened by the rain. Our house in New York could wash away, yes, and that would be horrible - but it wouldn't take us with it. We are no longer in danger. Everything that hurt to lose has been lost already. And still, the pelting, drowning rain sends me to a place of terror, a place I can not seem to leave until the storm passes.

It's over now. The sky is blue, the sun is out, the wind is blowing the moisture from the earth. My fear is gone.

Until the next time.


Rick Wojnilo said...

I hate the rain too. Probably why I keep painting scenes of San Diego. LOL

carrie jacobson said...

Hey, Rick - Thanks for the comment, and for reading the blog. And get ready - the rain is about to turn into snow.