Covered in Rain

Ambient torrents from the lesser-than-Katrina-Hurricane Ophelia are dousing Baltimore's streets. I have been craving a good deluge lately, and even though it had been predicted, I didn't believe it was really coming. The path of Katrina's rage didn't lead to much for us up here in the cul-de-sac of the Mid-Atlantic. I'm obviously grateful (naturally, I am also regretful for those who did not escape harm), yet it is somewhat ironic. It reminds me that just a slight turn to the left or the right equals destruction or escape, depending.

Ophelia is an especially literary, tragic name for a hurricane. I wouldn't dream of making light of it; it will certainly make someone's life a hardship, but she also seems destined to slink off quietly after a few comparitively minor disturbances, much like the heroine for whom she is named.

I remember thinking, about 3 weeks ago, that Katrina was not going to be any big deal. It was the name. All I could think was "that's my cousin's name. She's harmless and ineffectual. This storm will probably lose its steam once it hits land." Irrational and ridiculous, I know.

Walking the dog this morning, the unmistakable scent and feeling of the breezes arrested me. Reminded me of that other lady, Isabel, from 2003, who sent large sheets of slate roof down N. Calvert street. I watched her show from the window of my 7th floor apartment. It is an odd thing to say, but I am grateful for that hurricane. For all of her damage, she is singlehandedly responsible for two of the happiest days of my life. I won't go into it here. But you can view my archives from two years ago (almost to the week) if you want to know...

So those breezes I mentioned. They begged the question of rain, but I have grown accustomed to promised things that aren't delivered. I left my apartment without an umbrella. At some point, I looked out the window of the #61, Inner Harbor-bound bus I was on, and saw the city through streaky lines. Red traffic lights amorphously shaped, bleeding into blobs. It was still night. I began to steel myself for the onslaught of water when it was my time to disembark, but then I remembered that the rain would be warm, the way it is in September.

Standing at the connection stop, the site of my de facto baptism, I debated getting a cab the rest of the way to the office, but then I thought to myself 'why should I be exempt?' Kurt Elling's baritone swirled in my ears, I get along without you very well...of course I do... I stood there drinking my Awake Tazo tea, feeling glad of my life, not minding that I was soaked through.