London gets a lot of rain, this is not new news to anyone, but it still leaves me reaching and longing for that amazing, strong kind of Missouri rain. It might sounds crazy, that is if you haven't experienced it, or shall I say if you have experienced it but not the lack there of. I never thought I would miss it when I was there. It is madness to drive in, a pain to even go to the shop in, let alone trying to walk somewhere. It is simply defined, the clouds parting and allowing buckets of water be dumped upon the Earth's citizens. I am sure that Missouri is not the only place to experience such a wonderful blessing of massive out pours of rain at once, though it is the place that is in my memory and in my heart. I can see the puddles of water collecting around the sides of the road off Republic Road, the intersection at National seeping into the driving lanes. The sound of each drop pinging onto your roof, watching the huge droplets collect and join in unity to increase their strength as they roll down your windows.
One of my favorite memories is from shortly after Alex's arrival to Missouri. We had been laying out at the pool and could see that the dark sky was heading our way. Decided to literally pack in the towel and head in, we hurried up to the apartment grabbed some money and began on our way to the grocery store. We had barely gotten into the car when the drops came, and they were huge. First it was just a few, but after less than a minute they were beating down in numbers to great to count. We made our way to the desired store gathered our raincoat and umbrella lacking selves (though I am quite confidant neither would have been of help) and ran into the store. A puddle along the way captured my sandal leaving me to struggle to regain my stride. Once in the store, we could not do much more than laugh at our state, we looked like drowned rats. Alex just looked at me and asked if his recent experience was normal. I couldn't help but smile and let him know, it was. It's not everyday that we had this out pour of water, but it was not the first time by any stretch of the imagination. We made our way through the isles of the store, only to take our chances again with a dart out to the car once more. Made our way home, past the flooding intersection of National and Republic Road and made it home to change and wring out our clothing.
In London, it rains a lot, but it is like a wimpy rain. A lot of people compare it to Seattle. Both have bits of rain often, some say daily but it isn't "Rain" proper "Rain." And sometimes, you just need that.
When I was much younger I remember a married friend of mine, a mentor if you will, telling me that she thought if her husband ever died she could see herself moving to Seattle, there she said the sky would cry every day for her so she wouldn't have to. Not only do I not see this woman being the Seattle type at all, but I am here to say, it simply wouldn't do. It would not give the relief needed. That kind of rain is passionless rain, it is lacking a kick an umph, something that can't be described but only felt deep in your soul. It would not cry for you, and could not, because it would not do you or your loved ones justice. It doesn't even give my heart justice for pains much less than that felt.
With this said, I miss passionate, driven, determined rain that evokes the absolute need to put on sweats, curl up in a blanket, light some candles and throw on your favorite movie. Where there is no point or hope to doing much outside (for at least an hour or two) and you realize you are fully at the will of the great mother nature.
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