I remember rainy, cold days where I would look out my window and watch the black birds line up on the telephone wire outside. I would count them, and wonder about them. Where had those birds been to? Why did they enjoy sitting out there on a rainy day? Were they talking amoungst themselves? Did they see me staring out at them? My bedroom window glass was wet, and dewy, so I would proceed to draw on my windows with my fingers. I would draw happy faces to pass my time hoping for the boredom to stop, and then continue to count the black birds sitting there on the wire and wonder about them.
When the rain stopped I would get on my bike and scope the neighborhood for the best puddles I could find. I scoped the neighborhood for the biggest puddles where I could make the biggest splash. The black birds would watch me from their perch and cheer me on until mom or dad would call me inside. Simplier days, simplier times. No computers to blog in, only numerous written journals, and loose binder paper stashed underneath by bed. No cell phones to talk into, just the yellow phone, with the long curly extenstion cord.
Rainy weekends, if my parents would let us, involved taking the bus downtown to watch a movie or the Goodwill where my sister would look desperately for old Monkee records. Suprisingly, I think she collected all of their albums that way. At lunch we would head for the Woolworths across the street from the movie theatre. The store was full of the aroma of moth balls, intermingled with the scent of french fries from the store's cafeteria. There was also a few questionable and colorful people inside as well-especially on a rainy day. This all made the place more exciting. I remember seeing The Rainbow Lady taking a break from dancing in front of the Cooper House in line holding a large box of red vine licorice-my favorite. I wondered what else me and the Rainbow Lady had in common. Of course we bought our candy at Woolworths and hid it in our pockets when we entered the theatre. The theatre was big, and I tried not to stare at the ceilings at the painted Roman looking women holding jars. No naked men on the ceiling, just women, but Richard Gere, and his naked scene on the big screen made up for it.
It's raining outside, and for some reason, the rain and the birds outside are reminding me of these simplier times and simplier days where the biggest worry was if I would be able to pass my math test next week, or what I should wear for school the next day. I remember laying on my bed at night, with the window open, watching the curtains billow softly hearing the rain tap at my window. If I listened quietly enough, I could hear the sound of seals crying in a distance near the wharf, and a cow in the distance mooing softly. The familiar sound of my father's car arriving in front of the house, and the sound of the door, told me that all was now safe and quiet.
