In Tennessee, it is silent. I’m typing discussion questions to Umberto Eco’s The Name of the Rose for my book club, and I happen to glance out the window. The rain is pouring at an alarming rate, puddles forming in the driveway. The Earth looks sullen, dull; the only colors I perceive are dark, wet green and grey. Yet here I sit hearing nothing - completely oblivious to the ongoings of the world. My world is a monestary in 1327 and my thoughts concern only those of Middle Ages religious ideas. I can’t help but be mesmerized by the downpour. It’s right out the window, but I’m so not used to the heat in the house that I’m burning hot and dry all over. The only thing that separates us is a thin sheet of glass and drywall, yet I can’t hear it. I can’t feel or sense it. It’s torrential, like a wall of water falling from the heavens, a clean beheading of left and right and straight through the atmosphere.
I can’t explain why it feels so distant, why I can’t hear it, why I only see it when I look at the individual drops hitting the ground. This morning it woke me up; I could hear it then. There was the unmistakable sound of tiny hands pounding on the roof above me, the wind rushing through the trees, cars struggling through low visibility while merely pulling out of a driveway. Why is it so silent now in this moment of thought and reflection?
Tennessee for me is a weeklong vacation at a most inopportune time. Louisiana ended on Tuesday; I worked for three days and then got back onto an airplane. But it’s… sweet. I’m sharing a house with my boyfriend, his little brother, and his parents. I’m learning what made him the way he is, why he acts the way he does, and where he used to call home. It was sweet to bring me along to understand this. I’m learning more than I bargained for; instances in his past which he hasn’t revealed to me yet, personal emotional issues which haven’t surfaced in our relationship until now. We’ll grow on it, I hope.
It’s raining harder now; it surprises me. I can no longer see individual drops on the ground but the pitter-patter of tiny fists are on the rooftop again and if I look at the darker greens I can see wisps in the sky. Eventually I know the rain will stop and instead of growing, the puddles will run towards the gutters, creating a very thin layer of a river on the hard black pavement. I’ll look out the window and see moving water instead of falling water, and I’ll smile at the metaphorical implications the contrasting visions have on my life so far in Tennessee.
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You know Michelle, that actually sounds so peaceful & nice. I wish I was there. Right now in the area of Missouri that I live in we are under the threat of tornadoes and the threat of snow tomorrow. I love listening to the sound of rain. To me it is so peaceful and serene sounding.
It is amazing what you will find out about your man when he gets around his family members, but it should help your relationship grow.
Oh Michelle… you certainly have a way with words. Your writing evoked so much beautiful imagery. And left me a little speechless. Thank you.
Thank you! I am glad that you liked it, even if I feel like I did just sort of mumble it out…
I live in Tennessee. I always miss its storms (the rain, the thunder, everything but the tornadoes) when I travel away. There’s something calming about a good storm - even if the rain is falling in loud torrents and the trees are being bent by the wind and you’re not being distracted by something else…
At any rate, I love the name of your domain. I also hope that your vacation with your boyfriend is a fabulous one, that while on it you learn heaps more about him, and that the two of you become closer.