Updated: Feb 5, 2018
by David Michael Kirby
“The best thing one can do when it’s raining is to let it rain.” ~ Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
The song says rainy days and Mondays always get me down, but in truth, I like rainy days. A lot. (I haven’t made up my mind on Mondays, yet. Depends on the week, I suppose.)
The first thing I noticed when I woke Monday morning was the sound of rain coming down hard. I’ve kept the windows open my entire time here, listening to the river below. When I first arrived, the rushing water sounded like a gentle rain, but in the weeks since, I’ve learned to discern between the two. The rain pouring from above was unmistakable.
The second thing I noticed was how cold it was. I learned later the temperature had dropped to the upper 40s overnight. (I don’t think it got above 60 that day.) I was warm and snug in my blankets, but could tell I needed to close the windows. It was when I stood up that I noticed the third thing: how unwell I felt. I won’t bore you with details, but once I shut the windows, I crawled back into bed and fell back to sleep quickly.
Once I woke again, hours later, I knew I needed my coffee or I’d feel worse (stupid, wonderful caffeine addiction). Still feeling unsteady on my feet, I got up and made myself a cup. Then I sat down at the computer to write, but between the rain, the headache, and my fatigue, I was unable to string two thoughts together, let alone a construct of words that made any coherent sense.
I decided in that moment to give myself a gift: a day of rest. I spent my time alternately reading or dozing, and -- despite the chill -- cracking the window so I could listen to the rain from above and the river below. Even in illness, Vermont works its magic. By evening I felt much better, grateful for the gift of “letting it rain” and doing nothing but taking my rest.