It Rained Tonight
Tonight it rained.
It was a gentle rain the kind with thunder that is far away and only gives a growl instead of a bark. Like someone mumbling under their breath a comment when they thought you had left the room. Maybe the thunder was rendering in a complaining tone, saying that I was pushing my luck standing outdoors with its voice close enough to hear. I should take shelter, hide under a building in case the lightening may, by chance, decide to take me. But I stood there anyhow. The drops were cool and refreshing. Not the kind that pelted or drenched you within seconds, but a more gradual rain which gave you a chance to turn your face with open eyes up into the cool tears from god. The breeze blew very gently too. Nothing violent or angry, just a calm breath bringing the smell of my neighbor's open magnolia blossoms my way.
When it rains like this, it reminds me of taking off the confines of my shoes and wading into a cool, spring-fed creek. The water massaging my legs as it flows by, gently ticking the hairs and providing a refreshing and very liberating peace to my once parched feet. The gentleness of the rain is much like that of the first bath your mother gave you. Carefully, cupping water and pouring it over your nearly bald head while keeping it out of your eyes and nose. Speaking in coos and half-formed words, cradling you without a language you could understand, communicating to you with just her tone.
I need this rain as much as the earth needs it. I need this rain to help me deal with the pain and sadness I feel during this time of a pandemic and racial unrest. Of a time when I feel like I cannot say anything without making it worse...kind of like going to a funeral and being speechless around those who have suffered a loss. Your words will not undo what has happened and chances are because you have not gone through the loss they are feeling, words alone will do no good.
So, I watch the rain come down tonight and feel the words in my soul of a language that in its own subliminal way, brings me peace tonight. A language as ethereal as the words from my mother, even though they were not words at all.