[ IP ] Raining All Day

John awoke before dawn as always. He lay still for a few moments under the warm covers, listening to the faint tapping of raindrops on the bedroom window. The sound gently enervated him, tantalized him, called him forth: come out and play, it might as well have said. The old call he had felt as a boy was just as strong now, forty-some years later, with a family around him and 20 years of federal government service under his belt. He smiled to himself, slid quietly out of the bed, and went downstairs to check the weather on his computer. Rain all day, 100 %, intermittent to heavy downpour. Perfect. 
 
 John dashed off a quick email to his boss, the bureau chief, requesting sick leave for the day. He performed his morning routine as usual; a quick breakfast while he watched the news in the kitchen, shave and shower, suiting up in the walk-in closet to let Judy sleep a little longer. She was up before he finished, though, and he found her in her robe in the kitchen, pouring a cup of the coffee he had brewed earlier. He tried to sneak up on her from behind and give her a bear hug, but she heard him and just laughed instead of screaming. `` You're in a good mood this morning,'' she said, holding his hands. `` It's too bad the kids will be up in a minute.'' 
 
 `` I'll be in a good mood later,'' John said, holding her tighter, `` and they both have plans with friends tonight.'' 
 
 `` Really? Mm, ok,'' Judy replied, somewhat bemused. `` It's raining, do n't forget your coat.'' 
 
 `` Raining all day, the best kind,'' John said, as he gave her a kiss, picked up his lunch, and went out into the garage. He shut the door behind him, fetched an old suitcase from the dark corner under his work bench, and climbed into Zephyr. Zephyr was a 1986 Chevy G20 conversion van. It had been his commuter vehicle for most of his life; he had kept it through three fender-benders, two transmission rebuilds, and one carjacking. It was fitted out with a full StarCraft package -- interior carpet, mini fridge, mini blinds, tinted glass, the works. He told people he kept it for sentimental reasons, but really it was for days like this one. 
 
 While the garage door slowly ground open, he turned the key and goosed the pedal to bring Zephyr to life, then fished for a tape in the glove box ( he would never consider putting in a CD player or XM radio ). `` Queen's greatest hits? No, no... Ah, here we are,'' he said to himself. He slid the tape in and began backing out as Alex Lifeson fired up the intro to Dionysius. He sang along without noticing. `` I bring truth and understanding, I bring wit and wisdom fair, precious gifts beyond compare.'' 
 
 The sun had risen somewhere beyond the heavy cloud cover, washing his suburban street in a subtle play of gray and late winter brown. In his headlights, individual raindrops sparkled briefly golden on their way to join their fellows in the secret race to the storm drains, down the creek to the river, and back to the distant ocean. Between the beats of the windshield wipers, brilliant reds and greens of traffic lights smeared into the yellow gleam of streetlights towering overhead. Growing lines of orange brake lights and blue-white headlights bled together in their own, slower race to school, office, and on to far cities beyond the dim horizon. 
 
 John kept to the slower lanes this morning, music and color occupying his mind as he merged onto the Interstate, crept along to his exit, and wound his way slowly into the commuter lot. He made his way past the huddled knot of cars surrounding the covered Metrobus stops and went a little farther, cruising the lot until he found the right spot, up the gentle slope beside a little two-door Toyota that would n't block his view. 
 
 John let Zephyr idle for a few minutes as he checked his Blackberry and took in his surroundings. The rain was falling harder now, creating sheer curtains that billowed around the black poles of the sodium lamps. The daylight was stronger now, too, limning the asphalt and the parked cars with silver. The department admin had replied to his message; request granted and hopes for speedy recovery. `` I'm way ahead of you,'' he said as he powered the phone off. He turned everything off and sat back in his seat for a few moments, closed his eyes and listened to the steady patter of the rain around him. 
 
 His sense of time and responsibility washed away, John sat up and got down to business. He scanned the cars around him to be sure he would go unnoticed, then moved into the back of the van. Black suit jacket, shiny black shoes, blue-striped tie, starched white shirt, and black suit pants draped carefully over one of the bucket seats, John reached for the worn suitcase. He donned the stained sweatshirt and loose pants that lay on top, then considered the remaining contents. 
 
 Before choosing, he moved to one of the rear windows and opened the mini blinds. No. Another. A bus was arriving, its bright red-white-and-blue paint scheme dulled in the gray light. A line of umbrellas, black and gray except for one pink one, waited in a queue that straggled out of the bus stop, pebbled and magnified in the water droplets that clung to Zephyr's window. This is it, John thought. 
 
 He carefully lifted objects out of the suitcase and began to set them up beside the window. He assembled the wooden tripod deftly as he had many times before, and seated himself behind it on a low stool. He was starting a new one today, an action that always excited and mildly terrified him at the same time. How many people, looking out on this scene, could see it as he did? 
 
 `` C.S. Lewis said,'We write to know we are not alone,''' John recited as he always did when propping a blank canvas on his easel and uncapping the paints he had mixed himself. `` Some of us paint, instead.''
