I woke up early yesterday to another day of glorious rain (rare in these parts); the second day in a row actually. After a restless night and the weight of a rough week still burdening me, a morning full of heavy rain was exactly what I needed.
Stormy skies have always been my favorite kind. They’ve always been strangely calming… the sound, the smell, the beauty of lightning illuminating angry clouds. On days like yesterday, I feel like I can breathe deep and let go, whether I’m watching from my front porch or from my car window on a lonely stretch of highway.
I had to drive out to a friend’s house about 20 miles outside of town to check on things while they are out of town. So with a dark roast coffee in hand, I set out early into the rain. I ended up spending much of the morning driving aimlessly, chasing empty roads and dark skies. And with each drenched mile left behind, my struggles from the week before came into sharper focus, as I knew they would, before the weight of them melted away in the storm. I needed yesterday so much.
As I was pulling away from my friend’s house, I decided to stop at a curve in the road before heading back to face the responsibilities of my day. I’m not sure how long I sat there just listening and breathing and watching, but before I pulled back onto the road I snapped the picture above and scribbled the words below on the back of an old newspaper I found in my floorboard. So even though its a day late, here is my Saturday Scribble.
The staccato beat of the rain on my roof
soothes the rage inside…
The road opens up before me,
Dark and slick and full of breath and clarity.
This is where my mind is truly free.
This is where I heal.
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