Into each life some rain must fall …

a little rain must fall

The first rain fell last night; the first rain of fall. The cold weather all week, in the morning hours, has kept me in bed til 6 or 7. The pounds are piling on. The chores, the writing, the AM walks around the block with the golden dogs, all are pushed to “tomorrow” every day. Winter is coming.

Group activities are in a lull. I’m spending more Sunday hours at home. There is no deck reading in the evening. The sun is already fading behind the trees; the shivers come out by 6. The fading light and whipping cold steal away the urge to sit, blow the pages to and fro. I reach for my joggers and sweaters instead of my shorts and tanks. I wear layers to work. Pants and shoes. The flip flops are hiding in the closet now. Autumn has come. In earnest.

I remember fondly the summer days. I remember pool parties and swamp cooler sweat. Ice chests full of beer. I remember it being too hot to sit on the deck for long. Too much light still coming through the window for an early sleep. The air conditioner blaring all night. I remember two weeks without air conditioning, and all the 100-degree days we endured through that. I’m recalling the anticipation of football coming back.

I think about the years, the seasons through each one. Each 13-week succession through 49 years of life. I love change. I’m the rare bird that loves when things are suddenly different than they were. My body doesn’t like the process of the change, though. The sleeping in, like I mentioned. The cracked skin, this year choosing the right-middle knuckle for that. The legs, they itch like crazy when the weather turns cold. I don’t know why; I’ve always suffered that. I move slower in the cold. We all do.

My wife says to me, “we can finally have a fire again!” She loves the ambiance of fire at the hearth. Our current abode has a fireplace that produces no heat, or too little to be of measure, so it is just for the ambiance. But the feeling of things is somehow just as important as the utility of things. Atmosphere matters.

My mood has been affected this year, by the fading light, the rising chill. I get so little time to do the things I love, these days, and the shortened days seem to want to steal away even those scarce moments. I’ll adapt. I’m a reasonable man, a critically-thinking human being, who understands this feeling is fleeting. Tom will return.

He will.

But one thing I learned a long time ago is that we cannot always be ourselves. Our best selves. Like the seasons, we change. Like the daylight, we ebb and flow. Sometimes we shine so long it feels like the day will never end. Sometimes our shine hides behind the gloom. It seems like night all day. It was one of those weeks where the shine was hid, for no reason other than a change in pattern. A change in season. A cold front on the horizon.

It is in these moments that I appreciate the complexity of life. Everything is fine. Perfect, as a matter of fact. Love is strong within my house. Work is lucrative and busy. My writing feels right. A bad president’s numbers are down. Even the Rams are winning games. The perfect autumn. A serendipitous fall.

So excuse my unusual entry. Forgive my lack of witty banter. I’m not in the mood for the light today. I am embracing the gloom. Enjoying the rain.

I feel a little down these days.

And I kinda like it. 😊

Author: Tom Being Tom

Tom writes a blog. When he’s not doing that he’s usually hanging out with Mrs C, his wife of 20 years. Together, they have two beautiful, golden boys. Literally. The retriever kind. Tom recently started a novel and is a member of one of the largest social groups known to man.

His worldview was formed by the strange intermingling of comic book superheroes, socioeconomic politics, the Air Coryell offense, and an atheistic spiritual awakening.

He intends to save the world next Thursday.

18 thoughts on “Into each life some rain must fall …”

  1. You just expertly described something that’s virtually impossible to describe. I think I’m in the same place as you right now and I agree – it is kinda pleasant in all its unpleasantness.

  2. “But one thing I learned a long time ago is that we cannot always be ourselves. Our best selves. Like the seasons, we change. Like the daylight, we ebb and flow. Sometimes we shine so long it feels like the day will never end. Sometimes our shine hides behind the gloom” and now I am crying. This was so beautifully written Tom

    1. Sounds like they were good tears. 😊 Thank you for reading, being touched by what you read, and for the excellent compliment in return. Let us love this gloom together. 😉

  3. I’m going to just “ditto” curmudgeon’s sentiment. My response is essentially a big “me, too” to this post. I enjoy the change and embrace the gloom, all of the old, familiar things (even the dry, cracked skin, which chose the right side of my right hand’s middle knuckle for myself this year.

    It’s something akin to nostalgia, but for something that only happened a year ago. I love our traditions, even the ones you described that don’t even count as traditions. For me, that means swapping the sandals for moccasins, trading in evening iced water for decaffeinated coffee, looking forward to Halloween and Thanksgiving and Christmas (always my favorite holidays).

    Lovely past and, in pace with the theme of it, a nice change of topic. I enjoyed it and have been trying to take a break from the daily madness, myself. Party on.

    1. That’s amazing that the autumn cold has chosen both our right, middle knuckles to plague this year. Fist-bump to a brother … left-handed, of course. 😉

      Nostalgia is an excellent way to describe it. In a day or two I’ll embrace fully the coming holidays, my favorites as well. In a day or two I’ll stop looking back and start looking forward.

      Thank you for the heartfelt response. Party on, indeed. 🙂

      1. I don’t know if you’re sentimental sap like me (I’m almost certain this one wouldn’t jive with curmudgeon), but I actually enjoy Christmas music quite a bit. It does get overplayed, but not if you completely avoid malls and just rock your own jams. Say what you will of George Michael, but Wham’s “Last Christmas” is where it’s at, dawg.

        1. Absolutely LOVE Christmas music, my brother. The great classics (Perry Como, Andy Williams) and the mid-classics (George Michael, Band Aid), too!

          A video I love to watch (and post) every year is Wizzard’s “I Wish It Could Be Christmas Every Day.” Tickles me every time!

          Around work, I’m the annoying guy that wants to play Xmas songs before Thanksgiving. That really rubs some people the wrong way. 😉

  4. I am reading this as the rain beats against my office windows and it remains dark, cold and stormy outside. Another “typical” Vancouver fall day. I shivered and nodded my head with each of your lines. I embrace the Melancholy this time of year. Sink into it a bit and indulge myself. I truly believe it’s the creative nature in us to seek and hide in the Melancholy from time to time, greatness can be born there. Your piece evoked such a sense of fall, of change. I too love change, but also allow myself a little bit of time to grieve the loss of the old, while embracing the new. And hey, we do have football after all! 🙂

    1. That we do, my friend! And, with the Chiefs dropping two in a row, your Patriots are looking good in the conference, eh? 😉

      Thank you for the wonderful response, Ms Jane, it was sheer poetry. I love that you capitalized Melancholy, like a force of nature or an old friend stopping for a visit. I embrace every change of season, but perhaps this one is my favorite of all, even if it does bring with it some gloom. Let the spark of creativity that comes from introspection, come. Thank again, and Go Pats (and Rams 😎)!

  5. I enjoyed reading this Tom! Your prose is stunningly beautiful: “But one thing I learned a long time ago is that we cannot always be ourselves. Our best selves. Like the seasons, we change. Like the daylight, we ebb and flow. Sometimes we shine so long it feels like the day will never end. Sometimes our shine hides behind the gloom. It seems like night all day.”

    You captured that melancholy so well, but also the strange intensity of that fading light, with it the recollections of the summer. I truly felt the last warm rays of sunlight on a golden autumn day just before the evening chill sets in as I read this! Wow!

    I totally get these feelings. Autumn is actually my favorite season for many inexplicable reasons, the drastic changes make everything seem precious, more cherished than before. We are actually having an unseasonably warm, bright Autumn here in Berlin, but I still have melancholy. My rain is coming from within!

    1. “The drastic changes make everything seem precious, more cherished than before.” “My rain is coming from within!”

      Talk about stunning prose! 💗💗💗

      Thank you so much, MP! For the warm response, the wonderful insight, and the retweet as well! It’s fascinating to note that this beautiful sadness I feel is one shared by so many; I hate to see summer go but can’t wait to see what the cold months bring!

      Of course, now I’ll have to find a comfortable spot inside the house for my reading, with the deck so cold at night. Perhaps in front of the hearth! 🤔

      Thanks again, my friend… happy Autumn days and nights to you!

  6. Oh how I miss the melancholy changing of seasons; the need for layers of clothing, the changing of the leaves, the snap of the cold air. We don’t get the seasons here in Florida- just hot, hotter and a week (sometimes two!) of cold. You described the feeling perfectly though, and it drummed up some nostalgia for me. I’m going to have to take a vacation during the winter so I can make a snowman again.

    1. I hadn’t thought about that! When I lived closer to the coast, I felt a little less of the changing seasons, but here — with 110-degree summers becoming rainy (and sometimes snowy) winters — I definitely feel more of the changing of the seasons. And I like it!

      Here’s hoping you get away this winter and build that snowman, glim! ⛄

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