Raindrops

While the Seattle area is known for being rainy, it doesn't usually rain hard enough for it to be audible indoors. (It barely rains are enough to make any sound at all.) Rain heavy enough to drum on the rooftops is rare. And while listening to the rain can be pleasant, for some reason last night I spent quite a bit of time worrying about those people who were out in the rain, and out of doors more generally. While a fair amount of my concern was for the homeless, I also worried about those people whose jobs required them to be out in the cold, wet and dark. They are not in the same situation as the homeless, but an unusually heavy winter rain is still not pleasant weather to be outside, and in a society that operates day and night their contributions are important.

I suspect that part of it is that old canard of not having any confidence in my own ability to endure hardship. I can't imagine that I'd be anything but thoroughly miserable were I consigned to spend a night out in the rain, even with a raincoat, and this colors my understanding that everyone else must find it at least somewhat miserable themselves.

But I think that part of it is also a sense of nagging guilt. I feel that I should be more openly appreciative of the people who do the basic work that keeps the world turning, and doing more to assist those it's left behind, but I really don't think of them much until something or other reminds me of them. Like a heavy rain drumming on the rooftop.