As I was waiting for the evening shuttle, the sky was thick with clouds, threatened to rain. Mom said this is it, the beginning of the rainy season. As I walked home after shuttle delivered me to Cole Valley, it was still a clear night in the city. Inside our apartment, I started hearing the wind. Finally the rain fell down hard before midnight. Drum-like, the rain drop on our balcony windows. Lovely.
Where I grew up, the city had distinct four seasons. Rain spread out in Spring, Summer, and Winter. There was no rainy season.
Junior year in college I fell in love with the beginning of the rainy season. Remembering taking the shuttle from Mining Circle back to the dorm in the rain, the air was moist, you could smell the scent of the earth. The slightly chilly evening air lost its edge in the rain, softly wrapped around you.
After graduation, I started waiting for the rainy season. When it rained in the bay area, there was always snow in the Sierra. The earlier the rainy season began, the thicker the snow bank in the mountains became. The best news would be by Christmas holiday, there were enough snow for a good skiing week.
Loved driving in the rainy night. A few times I was caught on the highway in a downpour, like a fish swimming in the bottom of the ocean. Heart in my throat, struggling to see the back light of the cars in front of me, through the thick rain curtain. Two red dots spreading out, formed a fuzzy red line, like watercolor. In those moments, often paused to think, yeah, that’s it. In life, who gets to see too clearly what’s in store for us, anyways? Have to bite down hard, follow your intuition and a blind sense of trust. Life doesn’t stop to wait, neither for me, nor for the rain.
A change of seasons.