White Rain

Over a week ago heavy rain poured and I became lost in it’s saturation as I drove home. The traffic was slow because of it but I didn’t mind being held up. It gave me time to be still and be quiet. I wondered at the blessing of having so much water fill our reservoirs and rivers. My heart was flooded again with a tenderness I couldn’t define but it just didn’t matter. I let it come, not holding myself back with needless self-control; another private moment of privilege unexplainable.

My speed began to pick up as I neared my exit and the rain took on a different look. Everywhere I looked it was as though I could see white rain, like the very clouds themselves were in liquid form visually. This was special and I hadn’t seen it until I was coming off the freeway into my city, my home, my place of rest. The hills are green again from soaking in this special rain.  I am looking with eyes of expectation upon this place. The blooms are going to be gorgeous this year.

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