the weathered woman

A sudden rain is falling at my open door. It smells of ocean. And old, so old. Afterwards, the air shivers with tiny flecks of water for a slow, quiet while.




I think of my laundry hanging behind the house - but there was no time to bring it in. Which is to say, there really was, I felt the rain coming, I saw the weighing down of sky. But I didn't quite believe it, and now my laundry is soaked and my heart feels like its been washed away to another world.

Winter's world; pale quiet winter's dreaming.




Life does this to us sometimes, doesn't it? Sudden weather shifts everything and leaves us shivering. It happens in horrible ways, earthquake ways. But it happens in good ways too, handing us a new word or an unanticipated smile, or a hug out of nowhere - out of deep love - out of years of little kindnesses, but unlooked for. I don't think we get what we deserve. I think the world is a place of weather, that's all.

The best we can do is seek shelter, and afterwards gather ourselves and our soaked, broken, unravelled things, and go back out amongst it. Because we don't know why, we just know this is given to us, this strange and lovely and sometimes storm-wracked life. The choice we have ... the blessing, the duty ... is what we do with it.


Art by Duy Huynh

2 comments:

  1. Ah you have had your rain at last that can only be a blessing.

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    Replies
    1. Except that it lasted about three minutes :-)

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