A light drizzle dances around me like a hummingbird. A
little smile curls the corners of my lips with this simple quite pleasure.
Feeling the cool dampness on my skin. Delicious. The air is so still and
hushed. Like all living things await, expectantly, a welcome guest soon to
arrive. The clouds like a cozy blanket coax silence and stillness. It’s coming.
I don’t want to budge from my spot so that I don’t miss it. Miss the beginning.
I’m listening to an orchestra warming up at the beginning of a concert anticipating
the drama and energy of the opening movement. The storm is coming. Dramatic,
powerful, a little frightening. It will open with a breeze, cold, from the
east, then distant rolling thunder. The wind will become angrier and angrier
before the lightning flashes and thunders gentle baritone laughter, reminiscent
of my father’s, becomes a deafening roar. It will drive us all into hiding as
it passes by. Like the spirit of God himself. A terrifying respite from the
desert. Sand is washed away. Sun is tamed. Heats oppression is lifted. The
storm has past and we breathe deeply from its gifts.
