Rainy Day Muse

And I want to wake up with the rain

Falling on a tin roof

While I'm safe there in your arms

-Norah Jones (Come Away With Me)

Nursing a hot cup of tea, I’m staring out the rain specked window, mystified by the sight of grass in my yard. A fortnight and a day was all it took to change nature’s canvas. As pleasant as the view is, I’m unsettled enough to want for the snow banks and normalcy.

I can’t help but study the contrast brought by chance in the middle of a New York January. It’s all in the details - the growing puddle in the middle of the yard, the rusted kiln blazing bronze in wet symmetry, and surprising for this time of year - the bright hue of the green grass despite the overcast drizzling day.

I’m reminded of a post my dear friend Aidan wrote, Confessions of a Double D. She referred to herself as a Detail Delinquent. In her case it applied to details such as appointments and important dates (It's a great read). All I could think of was my own brand of detail - The kind of details that burn bright in the absence of sound – silent details in glaring juxtaposition.

In a heartbeat I’ll capture a furrowed brow of impatience or the way someone’s eyes will light up when a certain subject is broached, the mumbling, the hand talker, the wary eye darting that comes with an inability to pay attention to what is in front of them. I see it all. You’re backlit by a dimly lit room, or the overhead is too bright, you’re uncomfortable in your chair – in my presence, you’re loved, you’re lonely and wanting someone – anyone to make eye contact - A room, a face, a place full of little defining details.

Yes, I’m fortunate to hear with those same eyes that capture every single little detail. Some would say it’s a writer’s paradise, no noise distractions what-so-ever.

I believe the depth and heart of a story is in the details. If I write about rain, I want you to feel the wet moisture on your skin, the cold splattered little shocks of surprise, smell the damp Earth and notice the misted breathe of delight that escapes your lips. If you yearned or in any aspect felt the rain by that last figurative sentence – I got the details right. I don’t always though.

Sometimes I have to stretch outward and relearn to communicate, to let the details lay quietly in the background. I don’t always say nor do the right thing and I know that. I’ve learned some details don’t make the writing stand out, some events are forgivable and more than anything I’m human. Underneath all the details and descriptions and words is a writer that doesn’t always get it. I’m trying not to forget there is a life strung in between these words of mine, a real live breathing persona.

I’m good with the details, I’m getting better at the living part. This has been brought to you from my Rainy Day Muse. - Indigo

Picture from here