On Friday and Saturday it was over 100 degrees, the sky was gray with smoke, and there were ashes falling through the air. On Friday when I drove home from teaching lessons, something else had caught on fire apparently to the southwest, and a huge billow of dark smoke was rising into the already smoky sky. It felt like the end of the world.
And then Monday morning, when I stepped outside with the broom to sweep the back porch, it was raining. Not very much. Just a gentle dripping. And the air was cool. It rained on and off most of Monday and Tuesday, and this morning, Wednesday, the sky is blue (yes, not gray), the air is cool, and the birds are singing. I could have fallen to my knees and kissed the ground. But that would be gross. So instead, I sat on the back porch and played guitar outside.
This is symbolic of a lot of things in life. Everything usually is. But I’ll remember it when I feel that the world is ending on other days, when parenting, and life in general, feel up in smoke, I’ll remember how suddenly the rain can come.
I recorded myself playing guitar. I do this sometimes (perhaps so that I can watch myself afterwards to assure myself that I am actually alive and kicking). If you are observant, you will see the ears of our dog in the bottom right hand corner. She was listening. She usually likes my music, although she does, at times crawl under the couch while I’m playing.