Written by: Bobbi Brandt
I sit by the window and watch the drops fall. Like a camera out of focus the picture behind them blurs. All that’s left are the drops and their chaotic but soft descent to the window sill. They represent much of my life, chaotic but I land okay with all the other drops around me.
My favorite view as a child was a dark rainy day driving in the car. The headlights barely lit the drops as they fell. Little spotlights descending in sadness. The next droplet happily started the journey from above, only to lose the light half way down. If you squinted, the streaks on the moving car windows resembled lightning. A tidal pool formed at the bottom of the glass picking up shards of orange, red, and brown leaves that carpeted the neighborhood. A child’s perspective for sure, never having to look past the drops since the responsibility of driving was not mine.
The game of watching rain drops is now a game for older people not born of blue light. Those People who remember their own mind and their place in it. Those able to have a comforting thought without a screen insisting on what is to be their next thought. I believe I just barely belong in this generation, even though we too are addicted to our own devices.
Rainy day windows are memories that bring me such comfort. As a child I wanted so badly to go play outside when it rained. The desire made those days last forever, and I am so thankful for that now. Seeing rainy days in a negative way as a child helped to sear the images into my mind.
Headlights from passing cars and neon signs from shops reflect off of the streets turned to mirrors by the rain and make it hard to concentrate on driving even though it is now my responsibility. Maybe I’ll just pull over, sit here, squint and watch these drops slowly fall.