Suburban Summer Rain

It was a dull and a stormy dusk, a welcome June storm in the middle of the sweltering heat of an early and hot summer in North Carolina. The
forecast was right for this Saturday night. The hot summer afternoon had given way to pleasant breezes and later to stronger but refreshing winds. I had opened all the doors to let the cool fresh air in the stale air conditioned indoors. I had finished the edge trimming around the yard just in time for the first heavy drops to start plopping.

Even as I closed all the doors, the rain started pouring down. After canceling the grocery shopping for the evening, it looked like I would
settle for the status quo, in front of the TV to finish the remaining half of Cool Runnings. But I felt the urge to go and stand outside watching
the rain and went over to the front porch. The initial thought was more prosaic. There was water overflowing from the front roof gutters. I had just got them cleaned and I felt a little cheated since the gutter cleaner had not done a good job. It did not take long for the atmosphere to turn my mind from the practical to the poetic. I felt like actually running out and getting drenched. Immediately, I thought of how my little girl and wife would have enjoyed this warm rain, especially because they were enduring wet weather of their own, in one of the few places in India where
the monsoon rains are cold. If they were around, I would have probably played with them in the rain, still another week to go for them to be home.
I felt self-conscious to go walking in the rain all by myself. So there I was, standing in the porch and semi-experiencing the downpour.

It was not raining in straight lines, the wind was giving it some character. It made those small waves of drops in the air. I could feel the cool spray on my face and hands, causing me to hold my breath and tighten my face, but when I consciously relaxed I started to enjoy it. The big drops were pattering off the concrete floor onto my legs. Water was gurgling out of the water spouts from all the neighboring homes. The occasional benign thunder and lightning interrupted the steady “hush” waterfall-like sound of the heavy rain falling on trees and grass. There was a single little bird flying towards the trees. Was it trying to get home and avoid the rain? It reminded me of of my little girl, I loved to think that it was outside on purpose, a little rebel disobeying its mom and having fun.

I left the porch and stood at the back door. The great smell of the newly wet earth was obvious there. It brought back memories of a similar smell
but one mixed with the artificial plastic smell of cheap raincoats and damp shoes and socks. I didn’t like that smell. It was the smell of the start of a new school year which coincides with the monsoons in India. As a school going kid I hated it because it meant the end of leisurely summer days. End of reading Wodehouse and Alistair MacLean in the shade of a tree on the terrace. End of countless hours playing cricket and all those make believe games followed by cold lemonade. End of trips to the grand-parents' and traveling to exciting new places. All of this was replaced by laminated brown paper covered books and sitting restlessly on a school bench all day waiting for
pop quizzes and homework. I thought I'm glad that's over. Here in the now, I liked this smell in the backyard, the unpleasant odors seemed filtered out. I guess the start of school had ruined the magic of the first monsoon rains for me for the longest of times.

I stretched my hands into the rain and as they got wet I felt the drops against my skin. I was out long enough to start feeling a little cold so I went back inside thinking how much more fun it would have been if my little girl and wife were with me. Sitting on the couch I kept watching the rain through the large windows. Now it was silent, I couldn't hear the rain or the rustling of the
leaves or the swaying of the trees. Six months ago I was sitting at the exact same place, looking at a silent night of snowfall. But while the snowfall was like a silent movie, a production so beautiful and complete with no sound, the summer rain seemed like a thriller with cool sound effects being watched on mute.