Friday, lunchtime, it poured rain. I’m not talking a light drizzle. I’m talking sheets of water pouring from the sky. I’m talking “the drowned rat” feeling even with an umbrella. The bottoms of my pants got wet from the puddles and how high the rain was bouncing as it hit the sidewalk. If I’d been willing to risk my phone getting wet, I’m certain you would have been able to see the blur of the rain over the downtown streets.
I live in a city where it rains a lot, we don’t get much snow … at least not in a normal year…but we do get plenty of rain. People who live here seem to either have no umbrella — they just tough it out and pretend they’re not getting wet … truthfully it’s often more like drizzle or mist than the downpour of Friday. Or they have multiple umbrellas — the full size one for when they know it’s going to be raining when they leave the house, the small one that permanently lives tucked in purse or knapsack, the slightly broken one that still lives in the car just in case and maybe even the corporate logo’d one that never made it home from the office. I’ll admit to being a multiple umbrella sort. I don’t like getting wet while walking in the rain. I enjoy the rain, just not the wet part. I prefer to keep my showering as an “at home” activity.
As I sat, eating my lunch, watching the people scurrying past in a futile attempt to stay at least somewhat dry, I began to notice the umbrellas they carried. The functional black ones, large, strong enough to deal with the wind. Built and carried purely for function. The small, flimsy, barely stopping the rain ones, grabbed quickly from their hiding place to try to keep even a small portion dry. The bright coloured ones adding life to the dreary sky. The broken ones, one side dangling, that should have been replaced several storms before.
Some of the umbrellas looked like they belonged to their owners. The business man in his suit and tie with his sleek, black umbrella. The flamboyantly dressed young woman with her equally brilliant umbrella demanding just as much attention. The adorably cute Asian couple with the equally adorably cute pink and white striped umbrella decorated with little black bows. The hipster with his jacket collar pulled up, still trying to look cool and unaffected by the rain pouring down his neck. He’s a no umbrella sort.
But some? Some seemed contradictions with the external costume of the person sheltered below. The professional business woman still looking perfectly coiffed while everyone else is bedraggled? You’d expect her to have either the functional black or perhaps some designer umbrella that perfectly complements her ensemble (I’m certain one of those must exist). Instead she carries an umbrella with a sense of humour in its design. It’s clear from how she carries umbrella, that it is truly hers and not some accident. Makes me think I’d like to work with her. Then there’s the slightly frazzled looking man, he wasn’t counting on this amount of rain. The only thing close at hand, well, I’m guessing the umbrella belongs to his daughter. He looks embarrassed, but determined to keep his files dry.
Then there’s the woman who looks completely closed off. Her extra large umbrella provides an added barrier to contact with the world around her. Is she having a bad day or is it a defence mechanism? Maybe it all means nothing, and maybe it’s a silly question to ask, but I wonder what my umbrella choices say about me.
I have two umbrellas. The full-size one lives in the rack by the front door. It’s covered with vibrantly coloured pansies and it’s beautiful. It was a gift from family who knew that pansies are my favourite flowers. I love it on grey, rainy, winter days. I love that it makes me smile and clearly I’m not the only one whose day has been brightened on a “Rainy Days and Mondays get me down” kind of day. I can’t count the number of times complete strangers have paused with a great big smile on their face and the head down scurry of avoiding the rain has been broken by the words "I love your umbrella!"
My other umbrella, the small one that lived in my bag in case of the unexpected, was a rather ordinary burgundy. It was still reasonably functional. Purchased in the midst of a rain storm while travelling, burgundy was better than black from my perspective, but it’s not like I ever liked that umbrella. It did it’s job, but it didn’t make my heart sing.
That might seem an odd thing to say about an umbrella, but it’s true about my other umbrella. Carrying my pansy umbrella makes me happy. It makes my world a better place. On days when I’d rather hide under the covers, or tend to grumpiness because I can’t stay indoors, that umbrella it reminds me that beauty exists even when the sky is grey and it seems like the sun might be hidden forever.
The burgundy umbrella was nearing the end of its useful life. The wind from the ocean can be hard on a cheap umbrella. When I saw The Umbrella Shop on Saturday, I decided it was time.
My new pocket size umbrella? It’s a perfect pale blue with blue and white butterflies winging their way across its expanse. It was the first one that caught my attention, and though I looked at others, I knew this was the one. It made my heart smile … and that’s a very short step to singing!
Today, when everyone else at work was grumping about the sudden rain, I grinned quietly to myself. I couldn’t wait to set the butterflies free. Good thing it was still raining when I left work =)
What about you? Does your umbrella help change your world on a rainy day?
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