After the rain

I came home on Saturday night, flopped on the floor and tried to clear my mind the way we do in yoga, but I couldn't. My brain wanted to blog or talk about the past or talk about the future or imagine a million different what if situations. Maybe it was the heat getting to me.

Summer arrived in Winnipeg this week. This is what we wait for. This is what we dream of in the middle of January when it's -50 with the windchill and the air is so dry you need to submerse yourself in a tub of Vaseline if you are going to have any chance at soft and un-flaky skin.

I picked Lisa up on Saturday afternoon to take her with me to my aunt's place where we would spend the day by the pool. I lugged over my bag of books along with grand intentions of doing some reading in the sun. Does In Style magazine count as literature? Because that was all I ended up actually reading. I also didn't run or participate in any kind of sustained physical exertion, nor did I speak to or even bat my eyelashes at any boys. I did work on my tan though and while lounging in the hot sun drinking tall and fancy drinks I may have found Zen.

On the way home Lisa said, "If I had money, I'd buy a Volvo." She's getting her new lease, a Volkswagen, on Tuesday. It's a grand step up from her Aveo that for crying out loud doesn't even have ABS. Piss poor, Chevy, that is piss poor on your part.

"If I had money I'd get a membership at the Canoe Club," I said as we drove past it, or where I seem to think it is.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah, I'd go rowing. I'd love to get into rowing," I said. "And I'd buy a Corvette."

"Like Barbie!" Lisa said and I nodded. My Barbie Corvette was blue. It wasn't the real Barbie brand, just one of those cheaper knock-offs, but my mom fancied it up by adding racing stripes to the hood with silver metallic tape. My mom was always doing stuff like that for us. I remember when I really wanted the Barbie with the pink dress that had glow-in-the-dark stars printed all over it. My mom's answer was to decorate a Barbie dress we already had with glow-in-the-dark fabric paint. I think if my mom were to run a match making service, she'd take in all the guys who get passed over, like the shy or awkward ones, give them some racing stripes and send them out on dates feeling like the confident and one-of-a-kind special guys they are deep down. My mom sees the good, the potential, in everything and everyone. She gave me that. I'm undecided some days if I should call it a gift or a curse.

"I could buy a motorcycle for only three or five grand," I said, vaguely remembering a poster I saw somewhere for a used one. I thought this over for a moment though and realized I couldn't actually drive the motorcycle without getting a motorcycle driver's licence, and I never ever want to take another driving test again. It was awful enough the first time. And the second time. And the...I suppose there wouldn't be a parallel parking section to pass though, which would be my saving grace.

A few weeks back NYF and I were talking about his list of things he wants to do before he dies. I think he has something like 43 things on his list right now. I have no such list. I said to NYF, "I am a list girl, I love lists. But I cannot begin to imagine what I want to do for certain. Like, are all the things on your list, must dos? Because today I might say, I want to buy a motorcycle and drive it to Texas. But next week I may completely change my mind on that."

I've changed my mind. I don't want to drive it to Texas. I want George Stroumboulopoulos (or some similar character) to drive it, and me, to the California coast. I don't think this is the kind of thing I am supposed to put on this kind of list.

These are a few of the things that were firing through my head as I tried to clear it on Saturday night. Driving over to Lisa's that afternoon, windows down, music up, all I could think of was, this summer I am just going to have fun. I'm not going to think backwards, I'm not going to think forwards, I'm just going to live in the moment without a care in the world like I am 17. (Although I seem to recall having many big cares in the world at 17, so this time maybe I will do it right). But back home my brain was like a chatty little four year old who wanted to tell a story and ask questions I really didn't want to look at right then. Mostly the whys came up.

The heat and humidity the past few days has been unrelenting. They kept predicting rain that never came. As I lay there on my living room floor, hot and literally bothered, I wished that the sky would open up and the rain would come down, as promised. Give me a break. Even just a sprinkle of relief would be nice.

And I know, of the pain, that you feel the same as me.
And I dream, of the rain, as it falls upon the leaves.
And the cracks, in the ground, like the cracks are in our lives.
They are sealed, and are now, far away.

Iron Maiden, Rainmaker

It rained last night and I let a tear or two slip down my sun-kissed cheek. My brain, the clouds will soon clear. Relief is coming.