In the distance, thunder rolls
A bell, tolling in the deep.
An omen, a moment, a suspension in time, a catch of the breath, a quieting.
A silent cry for more—more—
We all deserve more right?
You are pensive in the pause.
But no, that is wrong.
We deserve nothing. We are guaranteed nothing.
The smell of water the moment before it hits—
—the wind kicks up, a chill, and then the rain.
Eyes close and then lift skyward, and the cold of it is warm…
…warm in a way that reminds one of childhood, and mud puddles, and tombstone pizzas, and a cold Diet Pepsi on a hot summer day.
The heat of the wind in summer,
and the whisper it makes in tree leaves.
Arms follow eyes and then everything spins slowly, prayerful, letting the wet of it wash over—
—droplets, pinpricks, goosebumps, water magic—
—the thunder roars—
—and the bell tolls again in the deep, reverberating there, an echo of past laughter and time long spent.
you are pensive in the pause.
Maybe this one moment is enough?
This one life is enough.
I love the way rain feels when it drips off my nose.
The sound it makes on a tin roof.
The way it makes the heart feel somber and the mind feel joyful all at once.
Because in the pause between droplets
the soul is washed by thousands of hours spent doing nothing at all with the people who matter most.
In the pause, we are not alone.
And we are reminded that we deserve everything.
That we can have everything.
That we already do.