And then there was rain

"Morning Rain" by Filomena Booth.

I don't want to talk it away, use voice and words to diminish its power.  Rain is so experiential, especially here in Los Angeles where we haven't seen the like of this in perhaps a few years.  I also refuse to Google it away by looking up statistics, numbers which would only tell me what I already know in my cells.

Rain calms me, slows and soothes and further stills me.  It induces a trance state in which all is peace.  Here, in abundance, it reminds me that gaps in our lives are not meant to be filled artificially.  Rain, the absent tonic, cannot be imitated.  Its tranquil blanketing will never be hurried along.  When it arrives so unexpectedly - 40% chance is not my idea of a sure thing, we have very few sure things here when it comes to rain - and so profusely it becomes both blessing and teacher.  Remember all those things you thought ought to be here, ought to have happened or arrived by now, those things upon which you have half given up, resigned to disappointment?  Rain taps out a message of almost infinite patience.  See, it says.  See, I have arrived.