The metallic green of rainstorm sidewalks

I had another one of those moments tonight.

It was a collection of everyday breath and heartbeats that somehow aligned with elements from my environment to create for me a larger-than-life moment in which I found myself wishing I could dance.

After a long afternoon in the gallery office, I was walking home in the rain. The evenings of late January in Utah are usually a little chilly–but tonight was warmer than I had expected. My faulty Airpods were playing through Spotify’s auto-generated playlists; in this moment, it was Pentatonix’s cover of “Imagine” that began to play quietly into my ears as I gripped a warm cup of Dutch Bros cocoa between my gloved fingers. The heat easily penetrated through the cheap stitching of the gloves as I neared the last crosswalk that lay between me and the comforts of my apartment.

What had started on my walk as the lightest of sprinkles had grown into a moderate shower of rain. By this time, I was halfway down the block. The quiet voices of Pentatonix narrating my every step, I suddenly was overcome by every beautiful detail as each took a moment to strike me:

The sidewalk, made reflective by the rainfall, sustained metallic green hues where it caught the beams and colors of the traffic lights suspended over the street.

The contrast of the mountains, quiet, slumbering, watched over the bustling lights and cars of the city as we continued living and “bustling,” none the wiser.

And, as I closed my eyes, the music fell in step with each drop of water that touched my face so gently. 

Wisps of steam and warmth curled from the opening in my cup lid as I pressed the button to cross the street. Cars came to a surprisingly relaxed standstill–the end-of-day rush behind us–as I quickly darted in front of their headlights, which were decorated with the same raindrop patterns as the wisps and strands of my own hair.

I neared my apartment with my sweet drink as Pentatonix began their cover of “Hallelujah.” In that moment, I felt so much emotion that I felt physically moved to dance. However, not being a performer of any coordinated skill, I found fulfillment in the little gestures of American Sign Language to “sing” along.

Textures change when the clouds break loose, and the world feels cleaner. I love rainstorm moments that make me want to dance; perhaps that is why so many people write about singing in the rain. Something about it has always been so representative of emotions.