Rain

 Raining again. Raining for the last 3 days. Nonetheless, I don my coat, and then the big raincoat on top of my coat, and head for the cafe. Cannot go without my coffee and pastry. Rain be damned. After a journey through rain, puddles, lakes, and crazed drivers, I am at my customary table with my coffee before me, and a cigarette. It is 28° centigrade and I feel cold. I look up 28c on Google and find that it is around 82f. And yet I am cold. What is happening here? Is the transplant finally complete? Am I Indonesian now? What did cold feel like? What did winter in Oregon feel like? I cannot get a hold on it. I cannot remember it. I remember some facts here and there. The coldest temperature I ever felt in Portland was minus five degrees Fahrenheit. I remember putting on two pairs of pants and a sweater and a heavy coat and a hat with earmuffs and gloves and going out into the snow for just minutes at a time. That's all one could stand. But I don't remember how it felt. I don't remember it in my bones, in my veins. I have it in my head, that's all. A collection of autobiographical events. I don't remember the "winter" here either from year to year. I am always surprised by the severity of the deadly heat. And then by the periods of torrential rain. I know only the present day now. Yesterday is vague, tomorrow is questionable.