I used to complain about a rainy day.
I don’t get headaches often, but sometimes when it rains they come and they are wicked. You know, the kind that make you feel cross-eyed while you bury your head under two pillows and a curious dog to make the pressure go away? Diane gets very terrible migraines more often than I do though.
I just call mine really bad headaches and crawl into bed until I can see straight when they happen. Then I drink water and life goes on.
Today is a rainy Thursday in Texas. The only kind of weather where my dogs make a short trip outdoors to do their ‘business’ without making me wait. No long tours of the front yard sniffing. Our front yard is at a corner of two rather busy streets and apparently our lawn is the preferred ‘poop’ zone for the neighborhood.
The water is streaming down the road and collecting in the storm drains that are much bigger here in Texas than even the ones I was used to seeing in Downtown Toronto. I meant to ask why they were so big since this place leans toward hot and dry, and now I understand. It doesn’t rain often but when it does, it can create flash flooding due to the dryness of the soil and it’s inability to absorb groundwater.
If I had a big imagination (it’s possible I do) I would be standing inside the door of my house staring at the sometimes yellowing grass, shrubs and trees and imagining them gulping the fresh water eagerly. We’re in for a lot of rain, so perhaps I’ll hear the trees burping later.
What? You never know.
Somehow the rain is comforting today. Reminds me a little bit of home. Of the cottage at Georgian Bay and rainy days inside with my cousins playing Rummy or Monopoly, praying for the rain to stop.
Thirty-two years later I am in a new country, staring out the front door perhaps long enough to worry the man with the feral cats who still manages to sit outside with nowhere and nothing to do but scratch himself and compose what I imagine are poems in his head.
He calls himself “Bull”. I call myself slightly homesick. But ‘home’ stopped feeling like ‘home’ years ago for me. I’ve felt on the fringe since 2007. Home is no longer back there (although I’d give anything to fly to Toronto for ‘cheeseburger sushi’ with Diane and Rahila at New Generation Sushi on Bloor).
Toronto was my home. That’s where I felt loved the best both at work and close to my friends. But a rainy day in Texas reminds me that I can love it here too, if I give it half a chance. After all, I won’t need a snow shovel for the first time in my life.
And I get to start and end every day with Kevin. The world that was is no more. The world that may be, is up to us. The world that is will laugh with me on the couch tonight. And in time this too, will feel like home (or something better).