Day two of his solitary retreat was met with more rain. Rain, rain, rain. So much for hiking those trails, taking in the scenery, clearing his mind.
It was strangely comforting, though, the weather plans of the day acting in opposition to just his personal plan. Being alone, there was no pressure in making the trip the best it could be. Only he would suffer disappointment, and while solitary disappointment is not at all enjoyable, shared disappointment is burdensome.
And there was another consolation at-hand. Because, again, this was a trip meant for head-clearing. While nature is certainly good for such a thing, it is not required. Rainy days, too, have their way about them. Yes, the gloom and the gray can exasperate the wandering and even tortuous mind, but they can also act as a shower for the soul, when used right.
After showering, he made his hotel bed, then headed to the lobby for coffee and a danish. A few fellow vacationers were doing the same. The way they were dressed told him that they were going to attempt to brave the elements. Perhaps the forecast—predicting hours of more rain—would be wrong. He was not tempted by their hope.
Back in his room, after hanging the Do Not Disturb sign outside his door, he settled into the chair sitting next to the window. For several minutes he simply stared outside. Pitter patter, drip drip. Pitter patter, drip drip. Repeat, repeat, repeat. A cleansing cadence.
As he stared, he found that he couldn’t be upset with the weather. And this simple realization brought him to a more conscious state, which led him to remembering what was in his bag. People bring books with them on vacation, only to never read them. He did. Then he wrote this.