It was past two o'clock in the afternoon when I got into my car. It was raining hard--storming actually. I had heard peals of thunder moments before stepping out of the house. There were barely any breaks in the downpour. Yet, I was prepared to drive eight hours down the California coast. I had thrown my overnight bag and backpack, along with some water and mixed nuts, into the hatchback without any intention of reconsidering the trip. It was the last day of March and spring wanted to drench the region with three coats of wetness. I could not refuse the inescapable, so instead, I welcomed all of it. In retrospect, the storm was the perfect touch to that day's road trip. I cannot begin to describe or explain what it was that I felt as I moved through the storm's presence. There was an untainted beauty in the darkened skies, strong winds, and deep puddles. I found myself reveling, contemplating, laughing, and even crying at times as I drove further and further away from the city that bore so much heaviness, so much meaningless weight.
A lot has transpired since that day two weeks ago. Many changes, many new thoughts. Yet, here I am, finding myself wishing I was caught in that stormy procession once more.
No comments:
Post a Comment