Praise for Rain

I was writing a letter to July, lamenting her relentless heat. How the garden was parched and so was my skin. How the sunflowers seemed to be fading too soon. How the fountain was birthing layers of algae and the moss had finally lost hope for recovery.  I searched for reasons to savor the month— the sight of a brave snail crossing my sun-soaked path or a new winged messenger touching down in the garden. Every time the sky filled with clouds, I released an audible prayer for moisture.

I wished for winds of fresh change to breathe life into the polluted air. I wished for the early arrival of monsoons to revive the landscape and free up my breathing.

Then, in the night I awoke to roaring thunder and flashes of light as the sky broke open. Drenching rain fell for over an hour. By morning, the yard had fully recovered. Sunflowers reclaimed their vibrant height. Snails took advantage of the rain-soaked sidewalks. Earthworms wriggled up from wet loosened soil. Everything sparkled with clinging raindrops, miniature magnifiers of petals and leaf veins. The air felt damp and cool against my skin as I traversed puddled paths and storm-muddied gutters. I breathed in clean air with a hint of summer sweetness, remembering again to savor the season.

Looking up at the sky with earnest gratitude, I praised July for hearing my prayer.

I want to hold onto this cleansing moment, to soak in these tears of summer renewal. Because the sun's heat will return. The sky will clear. July will finish out her mid-summer baking. The clouds will continue their work of shape-shifting, with scattered chances of thunder and lightning.  And sometimes rain. Praise for the rain.