You're not the only one to feel alone
I couldn't remember what rain feels like. I knew thunder
- the kind that rattles your insides when it strikes without warning
- more than I had known the rain. Gentleness had forgotten me where
I stand in this place of moth-eaten tapestries and faded mental images.
Today the rain came - finally - and I allowed my senses to be drenched
with it. The tiny drops sliced holes through the late afternoon sunshine,
leaving marks of contempt across a porcelain gray sky. I stood and watched
through the screen door. The crisp air tousled my hair and swept the
ghost of a memory into my face, making me catch and clutch my breath.
I miss you.. It's several hours shy of a week, and already, I miss you.
Listen. Rain has a melody, an actual rhythm unlike any other I've heard
before. It's comparable to a mingling of antique violins and a fine-tuned
mandolin.. My Kathy used to play the mandolin;. I wonder if she hears
the melodic rain, too, now from where she is. Indulging the mandolin
rain... and missing you, as usual.