In barely any time at all the middle field was slicked down, shiny wet and marshy. I looked down and saw the shattered concrete growing moss right before my eyes, chartreuse and emerald blooms and billows exaggerated in a time lapse that stunned me into fresh tears. The Signature of All Things echoing echoing echoing.
Toward the willow tree rainwater ran downhill, washing away all the day’s good intentions but also a hefty measure of regret. Fair exchange.
Then the curtain of rain pulled away and revealed filmy, wavering images of my girls splashing in the mud and wearing both t-shirts and sundresses, galoshes and ball caps, my husband’s green soccer jersey from his own childhood. My little Mud Monsters, shrieking and giggling at the sky, braiding their skinny arms together, knowing their mother was watching but not knowing then that she’d never forget that moment. They clawed at the air with their pink and olive Mud Monster hands and bared their pearly white baby teeth and smiled at me then disappeared with that same wavering, filmy trick.
The wind was weirdly absent during this rain and I needed it to sweep my thoughts away. Desperately needed it to comb through my troubled brain. I craved a storm instead of such a terrible, gentle shower and walked to the barn hoping for some tin-roof white noise. It smelled like horses and hay and ozone. The cats twirled my blue jean-covered legs. One reluctant clap of thunder.
Sometimes people tell us to count our blessings, it could always be worse. True enough. Other people say, pain is pain, no one has a right to measure one pain against another. Also true.
Sending lots of love to all my friends who are hurting tonight, for any reason. The sun will shine bright and true again, in its own time. Rain has its place. Let it fall. Let it nourish you.