rain, London, a remembrance

As my parents fight downstairs, and the rain falls outside on this cold night, I remember the serenity of walking through the streets of London on a cool, rainy night like this. Over Westminster Bridge. Lights everywhere. Big Ben striking the hour. The people, mostly tourists, walking about, defiant against the rain,, needing to get their photos before leaving the next morning, the people who work in London gone home by train, only those wealthy enough live in London -- or, like me, use loan money to pay for a 1,000 a month squat of a room in a dormitory.

I walked down the street in my neighborhood in Pittsburgh tonight while it rained and remembered a time when I walked, foolishly, through the strand next to the river while it was pouring. There were many other people there, and one couple holding hands. No one uses umbrellas in London. It is useless; the wind is too fierce. Water doesn't bother Londoners. They go home and make tea to warm themselves. Tonight, I could almost feel the same I did when walking through the rain in London, could almost smell the same smell of cold, and rain, but it wasn't the same.