I admired the vigor with which it fell. A coworker stood beside me for what seemed like a half an hour. At first we shared short vignettes of the last time either of us had seen such a downpour, and the places we had lived where similar displays were commonplace. Afterwards, we stood in perfect silence…only the sound of raindrops throwing themselves upon the window could be heard. The world before our eyes glistening wet like the fading watercolors on a painting being sprinkled with tears.
The ride home was not
as evocative, but equally dazzling. The rain had been accompanied by lightening
and strong winds that bullied the weak and sun battered trees who lacked the
strength to entrench themselves against the onslaught. Sirens flared and police
cars blocked streets, while highway ramps were littered with debris, fallen
branches, and toppled trees. Parking lots were peppered with growing puddles
and once hurtled shopping carts that lay on their sides as though dying cattle.
Thunder rumbled its warning in the distance like an angry god.
I was reminded
that life is never without this quintessential display of duality, in one
moment a nostalgic flirtation, a venerated remembrance, an appreciation of
nature’s ineffable talents. On the other, a reminder of our vulnerability through
a breathtaking exhibition of nature’s might as though we were mere game board
pieces helplessly being scattered about…falling where we may.
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