I like rain. I love the smell of it. I love the way it cleans the air for the arrival of a new day. I love the way dogs and kids run around in it. I love the way my flowers (the ones that are still alive despite me) perk up after a rainstorm. I love cuddling under a blanket, listening to the sounds of it on my roof, and against the windows. I love that it allows our food to grow and our lawns to thrive. It sustains life.
But there was that one time. I had planned an elaborate luau for my husband’s 30th, had set everything up outside. And then it rained. I hated it then.
And there was that other time when I lived in Brazil and had to be outside all day working. When it rains in Brazil, it RAINS. I mean, rain like I have never experienced in the U.S. Rain that drenched me after a whole five seconds of falling. Rain that gathered on the streets and sidewalks and formed rivers that reached my knees in some instances. I didn’t quite love it then. Unless I was inside my house at night, wrapped up in my blanket listening to it pounding the tin roof. That was music.
Sometimes rain falls and destroys. It forces people out of their homes and even sometimes out of their lives.
I love life. I love my life. I love the people around me, my husband and my friends. I love my kids. I love their goofy smiles and their silly ways. Their slobbery kisses and their warm hugs that make me close my eyes and feel that all in the world is right. I love how beautiful the earth is and how many gifts we receive merely by exploring it. Life is beautiful.
But there was that one time that close friends of mine lost their daughter because of an unyielding piece of apple. She wasn’t even two yet. And life seemed so black and ugly.
And another time when my grandpa was sick with Parkinson’s for many years and didn’t seem like my true grandpa. And couldn’t act like my true grandpa. And life seemed completely unfair.
Sometimes I sit in a small space, surrounded by screaming, whining, complaining children, and a large dog who thinks he’s small and can sit on everyone, and I wonder if this is what life is really all about and what I’m doing here. Life seems slightly gray and unfocused. Unless I think back on every step, every decision, and every warm feeling in my heart. Until I remember what I have learned and what I have been blessed with. And then life is bright blue and yellow and green again. And I cuddle with my blessings as life beats against our roof and windows. And it’s music to me.
I choose to write no matter what comes. I write in the rain. And I’m grateful.