Stormy Weather

So I'm sitting in my living room with my laptop in hand, a fire in the fireplace, and the front door open to let in the sound and smell of the rain. We've just received a sudden downpour, and, just like any time it rained during my childhood, my daddy is talking on his phone, looking intently at his computer, and simultaneously putting on his rain gear to run out into the storm and keep people's homes from flooding. He's awesome that way. This is part of what comes with working for the city's water department.
I always enjoy this aspect of the rain, not that daddy has to leave, but that everything becomes so lively. Rain has always been "an event" in my family. From the time I was little, rain meant running outside (in our pajamas if the occasion called for it) and jumping in puddles, only to come inside where mommy had made us something warm to drink. Meanwhile, daddy would shake his head at us with a grin as he was walking out the door to save some unsuspecting neighborhood from being flooded that day. Lightning and thunder meant waking up everyone in the house, pulling up the mini-blinds, and peering out to marvel at what God does.
Tonight is no less lively. I'm not quite sure why my mommy decided to take the trash out right at the height of the downpour, but for whatever reason, she did,and she is now walking around the house soaking wet, daddy is astounded by the record breaking rate, Crystal is remarking on those poor people who live right on the beach, and I am here soaking it in.

Sometimes it's nice to just be in a moment.

It's always interesting to listen from the living room because from this spot I can hear the rain in the gutter outside, and I can hear the rain falling on the tin roof in the family room. It gives off the feeling that I am listening to two different things, but it's not, only two different contexts for rain-ness.


It makes me grateful to live precisely right now. I can't help but think of The Great Divorce, and I think that if I were only 5 minutes behind, this rain storm would pierce through me like bullets. All the more reason to be grateful for "now", I suppose.