A Weekly Detail: Rain

After my last post I decide to start a new mental exercise. Every week I’ll choose one thing that captures my thoughts. It could be a small detail, an image, an action or any other small thing that people take for granted. That’s the thing; so many things are taken for granted. What could it hurt to train yourself to actually notice and appreciate some otherwise overlooked things?

Rain. The day starts with just a few clouds on the cool early morning sky. It gradually becomes more and more menacing, greyer and greyer and darker and darker. Finally, in the middle of delving into our studies, I’ll pause briefly to listen to the sudden pitter patter that fills the zal as the downpour outside hits the skylights above our heads.

I noticed the rain over Friday. Earlier I had considered brining a jacket of some sort, but decided against it since it was too warm and didn’t look like it would rain all that much. I was wrong. In the library, as I was on my laptop, it began to pour. With Shobbos around the corner, I couldn’t wait around for it to subside.

Walking down the corridor I saw the torrent which I was about to enter. I simply sighed and continued toward the door. The glass electric door opened before me and the wonderful aroma of rain filled my nostrils. Why does rain smell the way it does? Is it no more than the scent of wet concrete? Or is it something about the water itself that gives it that odor? Where does it come from, that smell that always sends us all down memory lane, to times when we were just little kids running around with our friends in the wet playground on a rainy school day? I’ll ask G-d one day.

I look up to my right. The flag of Australia flips and flaps in the wind on top of town hall. Its dark blue defiantly battles the grey and white of the ominous sky. As if waiting in ambush, the heavens open the floodgates as soon as I begin my journey home. Why is the sky so merciless when I have nothing to protect me save for my white button-down shirt?

The rain is too much to tolerate. I join a woman and together we stand under the safety of an awning in anticipation for a tram to save us from this hydro assault. A mother and her child run across the street; the mother wanting nothing but to dodge the rain drops while she pulls her son who happily jumps and splashes in the puddles.

We didn’t have to wait long before we were greeted by the gracious DING DING of one of Melbourne’s fine trams. Mr. Tram slowed to a stop as I walked out onto the street to meet him. His classic style fold-up doors all creaked as they opened for me to take refuge within. He seemed to say “Come on you drenched souls! I’m the friendly tram come to save you all. I’m here now, but I won’t be for long! Come on get in! It’s nice and dry inside me.” We took his courteous suggestion.

Inside was a relief. It was a dry and quick alternative to walking. I took my seat and watched the wet world outside as Mr. Tram dutifully sped along. Water ran down the window turning my view into a soft pleasant blur. The tram stopped to take in two girls who jumped in all giggles and smiles. They must have been out for a while considering how wet they were, but this didn’t seem to bother them in the least bit. They simply talked and giggled as water droplets rolled off their golden locks of hair and dripped down to the floor below.

My stop finally came and I once more had to brave the world outside and rely on whatever pity I cloud might have in whatever heart a cloud might have. This amounted to very little. I stepped off and thanked Mr. Tram. He simply shut his doors and sped off saying, “Yes yes, I hear it all the time, but I cannot stay to chat. There’s plenty more drenched souls that need a savin’” and away went the ever faithful Mr. Tram. There was no point in running like some people were. It wouldn’t make me any less wet. I summoned up my dignity, glared at the clouds, and stubbornly set off home one step at a time.

Seeing my determination and disobedience, the sky decided it must be a challenge. It let loose its arsenal on my poor wet head, but I just kept right along one step at a time. Harder and harder the sky hammered down. It flashed and roared in anger as I defiantly kept right along one step at a time. Unable to stop me it huffed and puffed and spat right into my face. But I simply closed my eyes and kept right along one step at a time.

Near the yeshiva I stopped near a milk bar to outwait the sky. I already made it this far, wont you leave me alone? After all its hard work, and to no avail, the sky was finally tired. It sighed and let up, giving no more than a drizzle. I walked the rest of the way having earned the respect of the sky.

I came into yeshiva as wet as could be. I went to my room and looked out the window at the unhappy clouds. Disheartened they were, such regret, realizing that they made me so wet! Don’t feel so bad grey looming clouds. Despite our battle today one thing never changes;

I love the rain