Tonight I had an inkling to just go out and sit on the back step and do nothing. Little more than breathe and listen to the rain. Unfortunately, the corner of the eye was perpetually distracted by the boorish, white street light that would’ve been better placed a few metres to the right. And then there was the dominant sound of rain dripping onto a plastic bag of mulch; not overly loud, but sufficiently distinct so as to detract from the background hum of thousands of drops doing gravity’s bidding.

Eyes shut and mulch moved, I had ample chance to let my mind wander. Occasionally her touch, or the movement of her head against my shoulder, would bring me back; but for the most part the mind wandered leisurely in and amongst those drops of wet. And it got me to thinking…

On a night such as tonight you could almost expect to walk unimpeded from Rosalie to Southbank to Coorpooroo and back without being bothered by the passing of others. Nope, tonight is a night for necessity. Only those with somewhere to be would be found traipsing the path to car, or train, or bed on a night like tonight. The Spanish seem to exhibit an unspoken pride in their habit of strolling, family or friend in arm, along the numerous tidy streets or round majestic plazas. Australians seem not to share the same habits or desires – least not on nights such as these. But then there must be…those who wander past puddles and small cemented streams as cars and occupants with somewhere to be whiz by. Those who walk a dog (itself not altogether impressed) not for necessity, but simply to enjoy a night of beautiful rain; droplets of wet, beats of rhythm amidst a backdrop of endless white street lights.

And then she moves and I am back, fumbling for keys in my pocket to head back inside, to blog and then to bed – for I have nowhere to be tonight…