Deluge

It invades like a cat quietly entering into a morning room, the way the quiet is invaded in a funeral home when you hear the sound of the casket closing.

The soft purr of rain, the mad clap of thunder.

When the windows are humid and the Gainesville train is blurred out like white noise in the storm.

Rain is a great reminder, mostly of sadness but it can also be mundane and boring...empty of colors except some contrasts of gray and grayer.  It has a scent, particularly in summer when it has a lawn-scent, a musky full-leaf tree smell, and the puddles in potholes match the color of the sky.

Rain spoils the work of hair dryers, it clings to clothes, turns us colder.  The Susquehanna browns with it, brimming the sides of the riverwalks and spilling into the lower streets.

The Ferry near Carsley churns whitewash against the tide, the brackish waters slapping at the sides of the vessel.

Rain causes traffic, blurs red lights and cars ahead.

Songs like Patty Griffin's "You are Not Alone" are best played in the quiet of the rain...sad songs must have that sense of the window streaks that stain and remind and stream down the glass.

Rain blurs my mind, blunts the senses...blinds me to the distance.

Rain reminds me of a lot of things...and despite the saddening qualities of the storm, I remain in a deluge of memories of when were together in one.