Sometimes It Is Like Music

There is a special magic inherent to certain sounds. The sound of rain falling leisurely outside my window, is one of those magical sounds.

I can’t say if its a symbolic sound; a sound representing something larger than mere water falling from the sky. Perhaps on an intuitive level, rain signals the washing away of residual thoughts and feelings. Maybe the sound of raindrops falling onto the trees reminds us that we too are being replenished. I don't know if it embodies anything more than mere weather doing one of the many things it does. Yet, when its a delicate rain, I always stop and pay attention to its sound.

When memories are replayed within the mind, what is replayed most often is the sound of something: a child’s laugh, the way a lover expresses their desire or words one has waited a lifetime to hear.

I have memories wherein I hardly remember anything except the sound of rain falling against a windshield, or a certain song floating through the air on a balmy, autumn afternoon. The mind filters out just what is needed to bring the essence of the memory back to life. Out of one sentence spoken by a loved one, the entire moment is reborn within the mind. 

As I sit here, with my workday only minutes ahead of me, my eyes keep closing, shutting out all other senses except the sound of rain falling outside my window. And for a moment, I remember sitting in the car with my brother as children, waiting as children are often made to do. I remember running through a grassy parking lot to get back to my friend’s ’85 Chevy Cavalier with droves of other teenagers fleeing a rained out rock concert. I remember sitting in the woods with my children while the rain dropped steadily against the leaves and onto our tent.

This morning, I gave myself an extra moment in bed to listen to the rain. Like keys on the piano tapped ever so gently, the soft sound of rain falling played a beautiful melody. And for the moment, I enjoyed its song.

Sane