thoughts on the weather

Whenever Melbournians talk about the weather they state the standard "The weather today is (fill in descriptive adjective phrase)" and then they invariably end whatever weather comment they made with the catch-all aphorism, "Well that's Melbourne, you know, four seasons in a day!" 

This morning Melbourne is early Spring and the rain is falling down hard in grey sheets against the green backdrop of the leaves.  I woke up in Charlie's house to the sound of it pounding the floor-to-vaulted ceiling windows, the rafters of the vine-veined courtyard, felt the chill on the tiles of the bathroom floor.   Charlie is still asleep--the six feet of him curled up, his toes and feet curled up, on his side,  his head slightly jaunted upward like he always sleeps.  In his unconscious state, he'll occasionally make a lazy chewing motion with a slack jaw.  He is bare-chested and boxer-briefed, and today he is wearing a sleeping mask.  He is wearing a sleeping mask because he stumbled in at 5AM last night, because he has a new job as a bartender at a high-end Asian-infusion-themed nightclub in downtown.  They charge $19 a cocktail but they give them to staff for free--I can smell the brash sick sweet taste of bourbon and red bull so full on his tongue. When he gets into bed he holds me and tells me he loves me so much, he missed me so much, that it makes him so happy that I am in the bed beside him, he loves me so much.  He says that it was really fun, really busy good night, says he talked to the manager and that they can scale him back one night so now it won't be so bad, we can spend more time together now, is that okay, baby, just as long you're here to sleep beside me when I get back, okay, baby?  I don't know yet I say.  We lay down together entwined and when our eyes get too heavy and our limbs too restless we turn around on each other back to back and fall to sleep.  

Yesterday afternoon was mid summer and the sky was a parched Polaroid blue and the sun was laden and unwieldy on your skin, the wind gathering the swollen heat in pregnant gusts of sauna-air.  It made me nostalgic for the rest of my life, comforted me immeasurably.  My childhood in Florida and Mexico, the broiling summers in Punta and Montevideo, the 90 degree dog days at Berkeley, hiking up the fire trails, laying on the Afro roof with the bay coiled glimmering beneath, walking up the dust hill to the Strawberry Creek pool to the the Afro Brazilian and Cuban music emanating from the 80's style boombox resting on Scott's shoulder up ahead.  Yesterday afternoon I wanted that air to enfold and cradle me, for the warmth to course through my lungs and breathe into me.  I went for a run at 12:38 PM to Yarra Bend Park and collapsed running up a dust hill by 1:16.  I walked all the way back to Charlie's face purple and head pounding.  I took a shower, got dressed, got some pho with Charlie.  He told me that he might quit New Gold Mountain because it wasn't fair to us and I didn't say anything because having any blame placed on me for his decisions terrifies the shit out of me.  Then he was off to work and I was off to look for a place to live.  I got back to Charlie's just in time to see the summer turn to fall, the sky part open to a terrific orange grey torrential thunderstorm,  just before the afternoon summer's heat exposure tore me down to sleep.