The dampness in the air hung like a winter coat draped gently over someone’s shoulders. I had been waiting for this moment. The rain was coming.
While the predestination of rain in the summer might drive some wild with the ick that if places on their skin; I find that it awakens a part of me that I often have forgotten about—a part hidden. It is in these warm summer storms that my mind sets off on journeys to far off places and deep dark caverns—washed of the dust from the winter.
These last few months have left my mind and heart heavy with the weight of work, home and the world—where everything seemed asunder and yet so filled with promise. Every day was a struggle, every day was a joy, every day was an opportunity to be better than the day before and every day would be never more.
The dampness in the air hung like a winter coat draped gently over someone’s shoulders. I had been waiting for this moment. The rain was here.
I sat in the storm. I felt the thunder. I shivered at the lightening. I washed myself in the droplets that hit the windowpane. The rumble in the sky almost mimicked the rumble of a truck rolling by outside along the wet roadway. Sssssh…listen…they’re talking.
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The dampness in the air hung like a winter coat draped gently over someone’s shoulders. I had been waiting for this moment. The rain was going.
The joy of a summer storm is what comes after. The stillness in the air. The crisp feeling of an early morning after storm breeze. The smell of hot wet pavement drying. The mist that forms from the heat. The rebirth. These storms bring a sense of a new beginning. The needed manna to bring forth life from the ground.
Maybe these last few months at work, at home, in the world have been the storm. In my heart I know what comes after the storm. And maybe all this time that is what I find myself living for—after the storm.
-d (that’s me)
