Rainy Morning

It's been a long time since I've seen the rain. It didn't rain the entire time in California, and today is the first time it's rained since I've been home. I usually am not a rain type of a gal, it messes up my hair and means I have to ditch my sandals for the day. But today was different. Today I liked the rain. Instead of ruining plans or transforming into mud puddles, I let it wash over me.

I've always liked smell after a sudden downpour. The serenity after a storm. It's quiet, bright and peaceful. And you think back to moments before, when dark clouds rolled in, when loud crashes of thunder shook the very ground you stood on, and you wonder if it will ever end. And when it does, tranquility shows her face, dewy from the clear droplets that fell from the sky, her warm smile promising of green grass, colorful flowers.

In California, I watched coverage of Hurricane Charley. I saw the devastation it left, I saw the newslines laced with fear fill the screen. Then I saw the morning after. The treetops were no longer touching the ground, being pushed over by the heavy winds. Pieces of earth and debris were no longer flying through the air at full speed, meteorologists were no longer gripping their microphones with white fists, clenched. The morning after had a serenity to it. A beauty hidden in the rubble that once was a home, once was somebody's life.

Today I watched the rain fall outside my window. I listened intently as each drop splashed onto the sill and I watched them glisten in the early morning light. And as I closed my eyes waiting yet again for sleep to visit, I smiled.

Be still, sad heart, and cease repining; Behind the clouds the sun is shining; Thy fate is the common fate of all, Into each life some rain must fall, Some days must be dark and dreary.
Author: Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Source: An April Day