I’m probably the only person around who, when the wind is blowing so hard, opens their windows. I sleep to the sound of the rain at night. I thrive on the gusts of wind that bend and break trees and power lines. The cold soaks straight to my heart and turns it electric. I’m smiling.
One lonely winter night in Santa Cruz, when it was me and two guys I hardly knew living at 211 Market, it started raining. The type of storm we get in the Northwest where the rain comes in sideways and the sea boils with anger at some unseen foe in the darkness. The drainage reservoir, normally about six inches deep and 12 inches wide, became a full raging river, 12 feet deep and twice as many wide. It was as if the apocalypse was upon us and the world was being washed away. It was a horrible, horrible night.
So I went for a walk.
Towards Water Street, down Ocean Avenue, until I reached the pier. It wasn’t closed, so I walked out to the end. I don’t think I even had a rain jacket at that time, maybe just a sweatshirt. Or maybe a rain jacket… it’s unimportant. I stood at the end of the pier by myself. The wind trying to tear the skin from my face and driving the rain so hard it seemed it had soaked into my bones. The ocean was furious with the pier and rose what must have been tens of feet with every wave, crashing against the seemingly frail wooden structure in some vain attempt to destroy everything we’ve created. The only light was the dim, burnt yellow of street lights a hundred feet behind me. It was like I was in the center of the storm and there was nothing but storm surrounding me.
For some reason, I’m terribly happy that way.
** Old Wordpress comments **
October 7, 2008 at 7:20 pm
I open my window when it rains, I love the smell of the air when it rains.
And i hope that next time you decide to stand at the end of a pier like a maniac in heavy weather that you wear a life jacket, you nut. :p