Rain

It’s raining, and I’m so glad. I swear I saw a tumbleweed roll across my driveway this morning. My yard needs a drink in the worst way, especially since I’m a negligent homeowner and don’t water when I should. I’m looking out of the window and hoping for that pounding kind of rain that takes you by surprise with both delight and fright, equally. Sideways rain. Rain that stops traffic and forces bikers to hang out under overpasses kicking themselves for not watching Storm Tracker the night before. My yard needs a good cleansing, healing, wet rain.

Me too. I wish rain could wash it all away. Health scares and lost jobs and bills due and rotten floors and sick parents and spouses and not enough rest and too many responsibilities and nagging despair and on and on. All the things that wear on us. That wear on me. I’d rather have rain on my cheeks than the wet, hot tears that seem to have taken up permanent residence behind my eyes and spew forth at the worst possible moments (and the most embarrassing). When I heard the afternoon thunder coming, it almost made me feel hopeful. Like the impending rain would wash it all away. That all the things clinging to my tired body would slide off and run down into the huge drain next to my office building. And I would watch them all roll away and wave good-bye, feeling twenty pounds lighter. Standing taller.