As promised, the rain came and now I’ll write about the fortunate rain.
Every storm is like holding your breath. Driving through dark tunnels, your cheeks bulging out, praying for luck. Some storms, cloudy for hours, eventually pass on by, not shedding a drop. Other storms rage against the world, going from a measly sprinkle to a soaked-to-your-bones flood. My roof made of tin, the rain a thunderous roar. The rain is bliss, truly. It comes in the sense of rest. Don’t worry, you’re here to stay. Everything, everyone, stops. You sit under your roof, under a neighbor’s, under a stranger’s. If you’re down by the river or too far to make it back, you pick the closest, biggest tree and fling yourself under. It can take hours or seconds, whole nights or mere minutes. In Zambia when it rains there’s nothing to do but wait. My head teacher calls the rain the most ideal napping sensation. When it rains it’s hygge - it its near perfect form. You’re inside and you’re warm. It doesn’t matter who you are, what you do. When it rains everyone feels the same. When it looks like the beginning of a storm, a small smile on a child starts to creep. Young, old, no matter the age, you run carefree to find the most welcome cover, tax-free! Not to mention the buckets! The buckets wedged all in tight. In many different colors, all lined up in a row. Under the tin roofs they collect this water in full. One drop at a time, under heavy flow. You see, the soft sprinkles they don’t count. Here, here we demand the downpour! Give us the water in its infinite glory. We become greedy monsters of the lake, desperate for more. Even just one more drop, we plead, we bang on our buckets. When the rain slows and unwillingly (for us) comes to a halt, the world cracks open once more. You peer out from your window, your door, embarrassed, meeting someone else’s eyes, who’s also been freshly reborn. With a slow churn and hesitant step, things return as they once were - now washed clean and flushed with the news of the miracle that has come.
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Author's note:Hi, I'm Helen. Welcome to Lifted ~ I write to lift myself up. Archives
March 2021
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