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Puddles

October 9, 2009

I watched the rain fall outside the windows. The rain bathed my car and ran down the sides of it and onto the ground. I watched the rain fall and get swept away by the wipers and into the moist air around me. I watched the lights of the city reflect and bend in the water. I watched the rain fall and listened to its music between the songs of my radio…and I replied. I spoke to the rain all the way home. It listened. It answered.

The rain continued to fall as sleepiness set in. It beckoned me to dream and sleep and rest. The rain sang me to sleep. In my sleep all I could feel was the cool reassurance of the rain. Constant. Quiet. Ready.

Morning came with gray skies and more rain. I watched the drops make ripples in the little lakes it had formed. Rain, and again, more rain. I loved it. I watched my entire world fill with rain.

One night. And I was waterlogged.

One night. And I was renewed.

The puddles filled and filled again. They ran as quickly as they could downward into the lowest parts. They soaked the roots and fed the earth. The rain filled those puddles over and over again, through the morning and into the afternoon, but the puddles were not satisfied. The air itself is water now…between the raindrops a mist hangs and wets everything. Water rules the day.

One day, and I am intrigued.

One day, and I am lost in the rain.

One day, and I walk through it smiling.

In just one day, I’ve learned to dance again.

The puddles fill… and the notions I had buried begin to precipitate. Happiness, warmth, security… in the rain, I remember the heroes that keep me dry. I remember who brings out the best in me. Love itself steals my attention like the puddles steal all the raindrops from the ground. The wind will begin to blow in another day or so, maybe one more. That wind will steal away those raindrops. That wind will lift away every puddle and make every soaked leaf dance itself dry again. The rain cannot stay…but love remains.

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