Off the Cuff / My Other Journal

Rain

It is raining now. We needed it, too. Without rain, come warm weather, the famed Florida fires may start.

First, one or two tiny drops fell from a few dark clouds that took over the sun; a few thunderheads, after a few suspended moments of trying to intimidate, growled and quieted down. Then, rain settled into its usual, innocent, life-giving, lyrical, rhythmic pattern.

So much of my association with rain goes back to childhood memories. Running under the bursting clouds--while rain flattened our hair, dampened our skin, and ruined our game-playing--come back to me as if it were today. Yet, I remember us forming our own bonds with the weather, loving to get wet and splashing in the mud puddles.

Rain always stirs poetic desires in me. I think rain is the most lyrical weather condition. It wets, it soaks, it floods, then it re-animates what it has destroyed.

Rain is akin to a mystical dream that turns us to paper boats sailing on its magnum opus. Dripping or falling apart, we somehow manage to enjoy it...like life itself.