Thinking in the Rain

When you live in Canada on the west coast, you learn to live with rain from November until April. A lot of rain. I look outside and see little streams of water running down the road, puddles in potholes, and windshield wipers flapping on every car that drives by. Yeah, I know, it’s an exciting life I lead.

Today I am thinking in the rain.

Who is the lady with the bright pink umbrella who walks so slowly past my house every day at 10:30? Where is she going? Does she have a husband, children, friends? Is there something troubling her? Maybe she catches the bus to go to a job she despises, knowing that if she doesn’t work the bills don’t get paid. Perhaps she goes to visit a friend or to care for a loved one.

What about the couple next door who come and go numerous times a day in their beat-up Chevy van? Or the teenage boy who never wears a jacket.  Or the man with the limp who walks his dog.

These are the people I see when I sit at my desk, looking out the window. They don’t know I see them. They don’t know that I wonder what their story is. So I imagine stories for them, and some of them show up in the stories I write.

That’s what thinking in the rain does to me.

Weird, huh?


Filed under Imagination, Thinking, Writing

2 responses to “Thinking in the Rain

  1. Not so much weird as perceptive and heartfelt, Wendy.
    Nicely done.

  2. I can totally relate. I have the same thoughts about the people in cars. Every car contains a story. I always wonder where and why they are going.

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