For The Love of Rain
Sarah Groundwater
The summer I moved to the West Coast (from the sunny prairies) we had a week of rain that was quite unusual for our dry summers. I remember prancing up the path to my house thinking, “This is what Vancouver will be like.” It was a half romantic notion – days of lovely rain, being cozied up inside with a good book and a cup of tea. Or spending hours just staring at the raindrops drizzling down my window. I loved the sound and smell of rain, in the prairies the rain smells fresh and makes all come alive. So I thought living in Vancouver would open a wide world of beautiful smells and nights being soothed to sleep by the sound of rain.
And then I moved to Vancouver.
Wet, grey, wet Vancouver. For the first few years I swear I held on to my romantic notion that the rain was so much better than the snow. Ummm, yeah right. Sure we don’t have to shovel rain, but what sort of consolation is that when you live in a high rise apartment and wouldn’t have to shovel snow anyways? I think Vancouver was putting a spell on me for my first few years. The winters were considerably mild, I could boast about rollerblading along the seawall on a February afternoon while my family was buried deep under four feet of snow. And then it all changed. Drastically. Maybe being at university I hadn’t noticed the rain or something because after graduation I swear that suddenly Vancouver and her stupid spell was broken. It rained all of October. And then November. Followed by December, January, February, March, April, May and June. Okay, albeit February was somewhat sunny – as if I was getting teased back into loving Vancouver again but all the way to June? JUNE?
Every year the rain falls harder and harder and I still forget my umbrella. I have a collection of them now: a brown one with a turquoise ruffle, about four plain black ones, a black one with flowers along the edge, a gold one that I inherited from someone, and then my golf umbrella for particularly bad days. I still get soggy because I refuse to wear runners, boots or--heaven forbid!--rubber boots. I still want to be cute wearing my skirts and fun clothes. You know what I say to that now? Screw it!
After seven freaking years of soggy socks, drenched hair that makes me look like a drowned rat, cold feet, wet hands I said enough is enough! So I bought myself my very first somewhat nice raincoat (high fashion still hasn’t hit those of us stuck in the rain, sort of like real snow boots) and rain boots that are paisley pink. I don’t know what made me so reluctant. My new supplies have made the rain fun! In fact I couldn’t wait until it poured so I could put them to the test – and Vancouver law made it sunny for a week. But then I finally got to test them out and let me tell you, it was FUN TIMES! I strolled proudly out of my apartment and held my head high while all the other Vancouverites were shuffling quickly as possible along the slippery wet sidewalks. And when I cam across a deep puddle that everyone was avoiding, I jumped right in. Literally, I looked about two years old, I'm sure. I splish-splashed my way through the puddle and remembered how fun rain could be! I was warm and dry for the first time in seven years! Plus I feel like a giant child playing in puddles. It’s great.
And so it is November and the rain is pouring today as I sit inside a teashop. You know why I am sitting in a teashop? Because I forgot my raincoat, my rain boots and my freaking umbrella! GAH!!