The Comfort of Rain

I am coming off a busy few days off. I made a good dent in my shopping, got the majority of my Christmas cards written and mailed, and managed to meet up with a good number of friends along the way.

I leave for Honolulu on Friday, so I have been distracted the last few days. I am looking forward to getting away before Christmas. I have not been to Hawaii since this time last year and I have been missing it - my friends, the weather, trade winds, flowers, sailors, older couples in horrible matching Aloha wear, Asian tourists in stilettos arms full of Gucci and Prada bags, Zippy's chili, opakapaka, li hing mui, girls named Pua, geckos, and people that say Da Kine to name a few things.

I have been putting off doing laundry the last few weeks, so I had a huge pile to get done tonight. I had dinner early on with D, her husband J, and her parents who are here from Italy. They are delightful, just like D. They do not speak much English, so I babbled in Spanish and hoped they could understand a word I said here and there. We are all having Christmas Eve dinner together, so it will be fun to see them again. After I left their place, I headed over to the airport and met my friend E who had arrived from NY for a short layover. He has a new love and we compared notes on our Mexican novios.

As I left the hotel and headed home to tackle my long overdue pile of laundry, the rain came pouring down. I love the rain, it is such a beautiful site to behold. It is not just light rain tonight, it is a good solid determined rain storm, the kind that takes your breath away as you observe it. I decided to compose a poem about the view from my window which overlooks the parking lot of the supermarket in my complex.

In the black shimmering night
Rain drops fall diligently against the metal roof
So many, virtually silent alone, but an orchestra when together in numbers.
Tears to drops, drops to trickles,
trickles to streams, streams to flows,
compounding the impact the water shall make on its long journey back to the sea.

Incandescent lights stake out their claim,
pushing back the darkness which knows no bounds.
The clock reads 4:45, but still I do not rest.
People slumber all around me,
rocked gently to sleep by the sound of the rain.
I sit and stare, comforted by the stillness, the beauty, and the majesty
that is the hour before dawn.

Cuidate.