Rain on the windows

It has been a rainy soggy day. Rob commented that the big windows might be a problem in this kind of weather. It felt cold and the clouds heavy. I said that I like it this way. We just moved to a new office and the place is a mess. Our furniture won't be delivered until Friday, so boxes are strewn on the floor. The contents of our files are stacked into huge piles. Our pens, paper clips, stapler, scotch tape and thumbtacks are in a little rubbermaid box on the floor behind my chair. We are also operating without the internet, at least until today when I brought in my laptop and ripped off someone's wireless network.
But the best part of our move, of our new location, are huge floor-to-ceiling windows looking over the Conodiguinit creek, with the trees climbing up from it's banks to our window, and the rusty colored mountains miles away. They are rusty now... They were soft green only last month when we came to see the office for the first time. I got out the windex today and began to clean the windows. There was a strange dusty haze over them, that I didn't even notice until I began spraying and wiping. Wipe and wipe and wipe until the windex is dry and the smudges are gone. I watched the raindrops drip off the branches of the trees as I worked. Dripping like a tear off a childs nose and chin. I almost feel it in my own eyes. I think about the marketing budget that I should be working on and the piles of papers and notes in my office, waiting... But the dirty haze had to go. Almost imperceptable, but entirely unacceptable. There will be no haze on these windows. I need to see the view. I have seen an egret flying down the creek each day, a small downy woodpecker in the closest tree. Rob and I are trying to decide which way the creek flows but haven't yet decided.
On my way home I watched the raindrops hit the windshield. I recently treated my car to a make over, a vacume, a wash and wax, and to finish it off, a friend let me cover the windsheild with Rain Ex. I am mezmorized by the drops gathering and sliding and even after I pull into my driveway I sit and watch for another twenty minutes. Gathering and sliding and sometimes splashing as the big drops hit the resting wipers. I watch and wonder and guess which drop will fill up first and plunge down the glass, leaving an empty trail. Again, I could have gone in and picked up my shoes from the living room and wash last night's dishes. But instead I just sat staring.
And then I went inside and cried. Letting the water gather and slide and drip, warm and wet. There is something about the heaviness rain...about standing in it, about feeling it pour over and into our eyes and mouth. Something that washes us off and makes us clean.