The best thing about bad weather is you can use it to lose yourself in. When it's hammering it down with rain and your fractal thoughts are in a maddening flux, a walk in the rain does a lot to bring things back into perspective.
It's generally rather uncomfortable to walk along in soaking wet clothing. And when the droplets of water begin running down your forehead, saturating your eyebrows to the point where the rain starts stinging your eyes... well, then you know you got wet.
The sheer genius of getting soaking wet in the rain is that your other problems shift time zones because right now you have to deal with getting out of worsening weather. By peeling off sodden clothing you can almost imagine you are shedding a worn-out version of yourself. Replacing that old worry wort with a fresh, towelled dry, invigorated whippersnapper who will have cream and marshmallows in their hot chocolate, thank you very much.
I can't say being caught in the sun has the same rebirthing connotations. Burnt skin and sunstroke, for the most part, lead to misery and woe, headaches and sickness, plus the hot gasp of pain as the slightest breeze dances across your sunburn. No, sun worshipping is not for the fair-skinned or those easily vexed by heat. You might think a fire sign would be well equipped to bask in the ultra-violet radiation all day long. You'd be wrong.
Snow, on the other hand, is a veritable time machine. It sucks you further back to childhood wonder with every flake that falls upon the ground and when those flakes begin to settle, the growing excitement is almost too much to bear. Sledges and snow boots are unearthed from odd little cupboards under the stairs. Fifteen layers of clothing are eagerly applied before booted feet crunch outside in utter glee. No matter the cold, no matter the wet gloves, no matter how much it hurts when you receive an icy ball to the face. Snow is fun.
We mourn the rain that turns it into slosh and the dirt from vehicles that soils the gleaming white piles of pure joy into grey sludge. It's not even fun to go out in that rain. Not when it's killing the snow. I'll leave those tears for the wind. He can whip them away faster than I can make them fall and any sobs are lost in the howl and the roar of violent nature.
Yes, I leave my crying for the wind.
If you enjoyed reading my flash fiction, you can buy me tea and cake and I'll write more!
Claire Buss is a multi-genre author and poet, completely addicted to cake. Find all her books on Amazon. Join the discussion in her Facebook group Buss's Book Stop.
No comments:
Post a Comment