The Rain Box

On my way to Paul's Food Center after work I swung by the Good Cause Thrift Store, one of my favorite haunts. It was seven minutes to closing time. I wanted to look at a book I'd seen in the window. I never would have noticed the Rain Box except that after I had found a pair of brand new black cotton shorts for $6 and looked at the book, which I decided I didn't want, the sweet ladies at the counter were busy tallying a mount of children's clothes for a family. So I wandered a bit more.

Then I saw it. An odd wooden box with a handmade paper sign that said "Rain Box, $25." One of the sisters (Good Cause is run by nuns) told me how to use it. You tip it over and some of the tiny ball bearings stick to the top and gradually ran down onto the small cymbals inside. I was stricken with a fierce wonder. I needed this. More than anything. Twenty-five dollars was a bit steep for me, but with three minutes to closing I made an impulsive decision and bought the thing. I brought it home. I love it. It's like windchimes, only better. After you turn it, the small metal balls keep occasionally pinging. They make a sweet, musical noise that is silvery and beautiful. I've never seen anything quite like this. It was a find.