Raindrops Keep Falling

As I drove to work this morning, the rain was coming down alternately in buckets and in spattering drizzle. When I parked in the lot, it was coming in buckets again, so I decided I would wait for the next changeover to drizzle to make a run for the door.

You see, I don’t ever have an umbrella in my car. My thoughtful spouse often hands me one when I’m going out in the rain, I’ve received them as gifts, I’ve been given umbrellas as corporate handouts – I’ve probably had as many umbrellas as I’ve had years in my life (that’s an exaggeration – but there have been a lot).

Somehow, they just never make it into my car. People who know me (and my car) might believe that there are a dozen umbrellas buried under the newspapers on the floor, or tangled up in the spare computer cables and pieces of two-by-fours in the trunk. Don’t ask “why two-by-fours in the trunk?”, that’s a story for another entry. But really, there are NOT any umbrellas in my car.

So I figured I would wait out the downpour and listen to the news for a few minutes.

Why is the sound of rain falling on the roof so soothing? I wonder if other people have the same reaction to that sound – I think they must, because I’ve heard other people say the same thing. That sound is comforting, like putting your head under the covers and drifting into a dream on a cloudy day, or curling tight up against your sleeping spouse on a chilly night, or reading “Mike Mulligan and His Steam Shovel” for the millionth time.

I remember many nights spent in my tree fort or camping in a tent, lying in the dark with the smells of trees and earth all around, listening to rain pattering on the canvas. The sound of the rain would envelope the tent, making us campers feel as if we were the only people in the world, and outside there was only the rain. It was a wonderful sound then, and it always lulled me to sleep.

I turned off the radio and closed my eyes to enjoy it. If the rain hadn’t let up when it did, I might still be sitting in my car, sound asleep.