Sarah Needs…Rain (the sequel)

When any of the women in my old subdivision were pregnant and getting close to giving birth my dad would invariably grab his car keys and do this ridiculous dance on the beach. The Baby Bringing Dance I guess. I was embarrassed by this as a kid, now I find it hilarious.

The women would always say “Be careful Jon, that looks like a rain dance.”

Then the babies would come, and sometimes the rain.

I remember being able to calculate how much longer we had to play at the beach b y watching the clouds coming over the lake. Those slight puffs of cool air whispering “not long now”, and begrudgingly packing up our things and heading home before we got soaked.

Things change.

I find myself praying for rain.

And the gods see fit to manifest my prayers in thunderstorm risks, watches and warnings.

They have been plentiful, the watches and risks anyways. But, I want a warning, gimme an alert. High winds, torrential downpours and the sky cracking open with thunderous roars and big badabooms.

Mama Nature has seen fit to bless us with spectacular light shows in the evenings when they are of no use to me other than lulling me to sleep or making it unpleasant to go out for a smoke break at work depending.

I’m fucking freezing today.

I shouldn’t be, but I am. Funny how the body gets used to something and how cold it gets when that is taken away.

Everything is a metaphor, always.

It was 30 degrees for two or three days. Nice and hot.

We found a new spot to swim. A quarry 45 minutes away.

To get in the water you gotta jump.

I’m not a jumper, I am a walker inner. I grew up on a lake with sandbars. That is how I do things. Slowly then all at once.

Letting my lower limbs become acclimatised to the temperatures and only after this can I dive in.

To put this in perspective I live in Canada and we got from 30 below to 30 above depending on what equinox is closest.

Summer finally came after we skipped over spring entirely with snow days in May.

February was downright balmy, but we paid for it.

But enough about the weather.

I did that thing again where I posted something without thinking it through. The last something, about the nothing I am feeling.

I am uncomfortably numb.

Swimming last year, that was the terminology we used. “You can be in for 2 (or 10) minutes before you numb out.”

It was like that from June to July. The lake never flipped like mine used to. Storms and waves would roll in and the water stayed cold. Storms are supposed to push the surface warmth to the shore.

Then there was the Lion’s Gate night in August, full moon, skinny dipping in water warm enough to just float like we were still in the womb. No numb, just soft wet caresses, belly laughs and happiness.

I can’t get happy right now.

That is the first part of what should have been one long babbling post.

It is eluding me right now. I know I have been there but I can’t remember how to get there.

The beach we frequented last year is gone. Like totally gone. Dunes sheared in half and then just water. Nowhere to sit and bask in the sun before running in to cool down.

That stretch I walked along the beach one warm day in February with Lumberjack is gone. Doesn’t exist.

But there were swans and ducks and we walked. I know we did.

I drove by that pier every day for work and I watched the water rise.

If I put my mind to it I could feel the cold concrete pressed against my back and his colossal warmth pressed against my front. And put my mind to it I did.

“And in this moment, I am happy, happy…I wish you were here.” Incubus

I was happy. I might well get that happy again.