The relentless pounding of the rain surrounds me. Bringing comfort, bringing life. The rawness of my soul is cleansed by the sight, the smell, and the pure joy of the storm. While the nation has suffered under winter's command this year, my corner of the world has cried for water. And as it comes, my heart cannot help but feel the health that comes with it.
Awake in the wee hours, watching the street make art as the droplets form into puddles, watching the plants mercifully soak up every molecule, and watching the dust gleefully wash away from the cars.
This year has not gone as I had planned. I had different expectations for it, for myself and for my accomplishments. I had a series of goals which I have promptly failed, a drought (if you will...) of my own. This storm is a loud reminder of the nourishment that one needs to keep going, somehow trying to soothe my mostly self-inflicted wounds.
A new sound awakens my senses, one that I know well as I hear it nightly. The "toddler shuffle" stops at the top of the stairs, and she knows that something is amiss. Crying out, my daughter comes downstairs searching for me, finds me writing on an iPhone in the dark. "Let's cuddle, mama" she begs and I quickly bury the device in the blanket, choosing the only option.
The timeliness of my blog is... a bit off and "Storm Watch 2014" ended last weekend with a shutter. The great California storm was disappointment as four predicted glorious days of heavy rains barely equated to 2-nights and 1-half day of moderate downpour.
Many a great author have written about storms, the real and the imagined - and this one was not very magnificent in the grand scheme of things. So how do I translate the feeling of restoration that those few hours brought me into a lasting and purposeful change?
I need more rain.