Rain

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I love listening to the rain.

There is something tactile in the acoustics of the rain, like listening to the sky’s latest hit single. The drums maintain their mesmerizing rhythm for a time, then transition fast or slow. The crash of cymbals brings me back to the present moment. The graceful dance of clouds adds ambiance to the light show.

There are times when the rain plays with my imagination. I used to imagine Noah’s ark during the flood or Dorothy’s house from Return to Oz, as they were carried away by enticing torrents of hopes and dreams mixed with fear.

The sound of rain, not the electricity of a storm, but the pitter patter, the kiss of drops against our modeled human lives, wet against concrete, plaster, glass, metal, wood, and asphalt—this lullaby I can rest easy to—the place where heaven and earth meet to discuss humanity’s basic need for survival.