And I'll Be Certain She's My Girl...

Walking through the house - I've been watching a movie with my sister and Dad, but it's come to a slow point. Got up for a snack break - my inner muncher instinct has informed me that there are cookies to be found somewhere in this dwelling.

Wander back through the living room, stop mid-stride and mid-munch. Just looking out the window at the rain. Change course, go out, let the door ssssshlick closed behind me, and just stand on the doorstep, under the overhang. Watching the world around me receive the rain. Listening to the windchime. Eat another Oreo.

I like rain. I love storms, particularly those with a high-passion that turn the world to darkness, and you just want to run through the rain in the long grass at night until you've got nothing left to run on. I love being soaked to the skin and feeling all the dust picked up from life forgotten, long since washed away. But this, this is okay too. The rain's just coming straight down, not particularly heavy. If there is thunder tonight, it won't be the kind that cries and shouts at you or something over the clouds - it'll just be talking to the rain or someone else, and can't quite help that its voice is so loud.

I consider a new impulse for a moment, set my glass down, and with four Oreos in my hand, start down the sidewalk. Take a left at the end. Walking down the street. Rain dances to touch me and run little fingers over me. I'm not sure if I smile - sometimes I just forget to make expressions. But I'm happy.

People tell you that it's the destination that matters, no matter how you get there. People say to live your life as a journey, not to worry about how it ends. People say all kinds of things. I walk alone in the rain. No one's saying anything. I'm happy.

Get to the end of the street. Three Oreos. My shoes are getting wet. This is an interesting contrast - I love being in the rain and being soaked to the skin. I hate having wet shoes once I'm out of the rain. Wet clothes I don't really mind, but wet shoes bother me. But, I'm crossing down into the swamp, and I'm not about to walk through that barefoot.

The stream used to cut through here. Actually, years ago, this was Birchwood - our location for all of our Jungle Book and Sherwood Forest and other adventures. The three of us were desperately disappointed when everything was cleared out for a building development. It's now a very wide basin

It's like walking home - you always remember the way to where you were as a kid, and sometimes you just find your way there without realizing it. In this case, I don't know where I'm going. I don't need to. I'm not sure whether the trip matters, walking in the rain, or if chance or God or my random impulses will put me somewhere I need to be. Maybe there's something I need to see. Maybe there's someone I need to be. Maybe I just need to get wet. I'm okay with that.

Out of the basin, up the hill. Turning right takes me down to a friend's house - I haven't seen her since high school. That hill is long, though, and without a bike, what's the point? I like to go fast down hills. Two Oreos.

Somewhere over the rainclouds, the sun is setting. I wonder what that looks like - seeing a sunset from above a storm. Do the clouds look dark when they're underneath you? Are they still painted, shot with fire and roses? The only effect down here is that it gets darker. I grin. I think - I feel the grin inside me, I just don't know if it made it outside. It's okay - there's no one out here to see me forget to smile.

They're all tucked away inside their split-level suburban homes. It's light in there, and dry, and warm. Usually softer, and the colors are chosen. I can see the flickering of one tv, and a shadow on a couch that I'm guessing is someone my age. There are lights on in the basement. Maybe everyone's home and nobody's talking.

The road changes to gravel. Gravel and mud, by this point. I'm thinking that wearing my Nike Shox for this wasn't such a good plan - they pick up all kinds of dirt in the space inside the heel. Not as though I put any real thought into it, though. Some trips are best started random.

"Where are we going?"
"Oh, I don't know. Thisaway until we run out of island."
-Brunswick and Alex

One Oreo. I've got my choice of an open road to the north, or the rare sight of a grassfield that hasn't been turned into farmland. If I go south, I'll hit the tracks and follow them to Sistertown. Hmmm.

I eat my Oreo and make my choice. Walking with the storm, content in the rain. Maybe I'm humming - sometimes I forget to keep the songs inside my head. Or forget to let them out. Either way, doesn't matter. There's no one to hear me out here.

Oreos all gone. I disappear with the rain over the hills. Just vanish from this world, like that, no further explanation. Really, no further explanation is needed. It's enough just to be me, walking in the rain.

But I did forget my glass of water back on the step.