The smell of it. The patting sound on leaves. The soothing click on the roof of the car. Standing in it. Feeling every drop as it falls, a direct connection to places unseen. watching the grass glitter when the sin breaks through.

I love rain. I guess you can tell. I’ve spent hours watching it creep in across the pasture; hours more watching it crack the sky with lightning. Uncountable moments listening to it, eyes closed, as it bend individual blades of grass.

I come by the love honestly. My dad and I used to watch storms together. My mom got me addicted to TWC. Still, I have to remind myself that lightning heard is lightning dangerous. I haven’t yet managed to shed the fear that the next killing flood is at the outer edge of every storm–especially with all the rain we’ve had lately. My own delight at a sunny morning surprised me.

To my flooded brothers and sisters, I empathize with what you’re going through. I hope there comes a time when you can again find what you loved about land, river and rain. A time when, for all of us, a gray sky doesn’t produce dread along with the drops.

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