Let the rain kiss you. Let the rain beat upon your head with silver liquid drops. Let the rain sing you a lullaby. —Langston Hughes
I hadn’t planned on doing a second article today, and trust me, this one will be short. I looked out the kitchen window this morning, though, and saw that the kids had left the tricycle out in the rain. Yes, they had been told to put it up, but, being six- and seven-years-old, they didn’t think it necessary to follow those instructions. If we’re honest, few if any of us followed those instructions when we were that age. My father actually backed over my first tricycle because I left it behind the car. Such is the nature of being a child.
While frustrated that, yet again, my instructions had not been followed, I found an odd beauty in the rain on the tricycle. There’s something about the water on the chrome and the metal, the tire in the mud, the drops falling off the pedals and handlebars, that struck me as interesting. So, I grabbed the camera, ran out quickly while it wasn’t raining too hard, and grabbed a few shots.
While processing the images I also thought of how we often leave people out in the rain, so to speak. We enjoy them while they’re being fun and useful, but when we’re done we just leave them out where ever. We don’t bother to see that they’re safe, or happy. We don’t bother to think whether they might be lonely or in need of a friend.
We view too many people the same way children view toys: expendable. Children don’t typically worry about their toys because they assume that Mommy and Daddy will buy them new ones, even though that assumption is likely wrong. In similar fashion, we do the same thing to people we casually meet. We assume that the server at the restaurant, or the floor person at the department store, or the cashier at the grocery, are all expendable so it doesn’t matter how we treat them. Their feelings don’t matter. I’ve seen some treated as though they’re barely even human. We, effectively, leave them out in the rain, discarded without a thought, just assuming they’ll be there the next time we need them.
I’ve felt left out in the rain before. Perhaps you have, too. If so, perhaps you’ll understand the emotion behind these pictures.