Riveting Rains of Revelation (AH! I love alliteration. And cheesy blog post titles.)

I was sitting here thinking about how imagination and curiosity seem so different, and how I feel like I'm a bit heavy on the curiosity side and could use a little more imagination now and then, and that's when I heard something. Outside it started to pour, so hard and heavy that it sounded like thunder in the mix. So I jumped to my feet and ran to the bedroom window and saw the biggest downpour I've seen in at least 15 years, not since living in the midwest. I took off my cotton pants and threw on my silk mini skirt and ran out my front door, down the hall, down the elevator, and out into the rain. I walked from my alley out into the open parking lot, arms outstretched, palms up, turning my face to the sky. I stood like that for awhile with eyes closed and a huge smile, until I heard laughter. I looked to my right and saw the older gentleman security guard at the gate of my apartment building, the one who I practice my Chinese with every morning and afternoon, and the happy man who is always in the chef's button-up white long-sleeved jacket and tall, tall hat from the restaurant next door who always smiles real big and yells HELLO. The two of them must be friends from lots of long days, long hours passed together like that, I could tell, by the way they laughed together at me. They motioned for me to come inside their little booth to hide from the rain, and I motioned back at them to come join me. They laughed even harder and waved their arms and yelled no no no in Chinese. I looked back to the parking lot and street in front of me and saw dozens of people opening umbrellas and running frantically to escape the wet. I could have stayed inside, dry, except I couldn't help imagining what a warm Spring torrential rain in China must feel like. And I thought yes yes yes, maybe imagination and curiosity aren't so different after all.