I’ve never been one to feel freedom on a day full of sunshine. The warm summer breezes make me feel something, but I don’t fall in love with them the way I do the storms. The flowers entice me and while I enjoy watching them flourish, I’m still eager to see their leaves radiate that deep green envy after a heavy summer storm.
You see, that’s the beauty of it all. The rain pours so heavily it disrupts the masks and allows mother nature to show her hidden colors. While the clouds move in, the wind begins to pick up and an uncontrollable, yet familiar and comforting chaos creep in.
Sitting in my car I see the radiating sky shift to a depressed violet shade and that’s when it hits – my curiosity itching to get out and releasing adrenaline into my veins.
Windows down. Hair flying. Cool breezes slipping through the cracked windows. Music screaming the same lyrics back at me that I yell into the empty space ahead of me. The sky continues to light up with no rhyme or reason. I’m ahead of this storm. I’m thriving.
I’d give everything away to make it last just a second longer.
For a split second, when the sky finally breaks open above me and the rain begins to fall… there’s panic. The immediate pounding of the rain on my windshield startles me enough to hit the breaks and reach for the wiper controls, but after a few seconds the final downpour becomes relaxing.
It’s not until much later after the swollen clouds clear that I’m able to see the debris left behind from the accompanying winds. The intense waterfall, albeit relieving, impairs my vision and senses of understanding. The repercussions are heavier than the initial rains.
Standing alone in the street staring at broken tree limbs, shredded leaves and windblown grasses – the unfairness of what comes after the release of the storm bears a heavy weight that forces me to look up and see the makings of another storm on the horizon. I begin to pick up the pieces, wondering if there’s any way to prevent the aftermath of the next storm that lies ahead.