There are days when it feels like the world has been picked up and shoved into the clouds. A thick fog hangs over everything and dampness seeps into every crevice. The sun is forgotten behind the flannel grayness and we step outside without shielding our eyes.
I revel in the softness of this weather. My skin is plump, my gaze is easy, and I wrap myself in snugly clothing for comfort. Rain is a reprieve. It is a reminder that we cannot have only heat and blinding sun. Our world would bake and crack. We need the wet moistness like a puppy’s nose to wash away the lines and dampen the harshness.
I secretly love the pounding of the rain on my roof and the chill of the air that comes with a storm. Who cannot be awed by the sky weeping? Drenching us in its tears and unleashing its melancholy so overtly. I feel my grip relax and I rest in the reflection of myself in nature.
Rain is rare here. It is a sigh in the midst of the bustle. It is a deep breath. It is a pause. I notice the pace change and I refresh myself feeling the swelling of my parched heart just as the earth expands again to fill the spaces absorbing the life giving nature of water.
Let it rain.