I need rain to grow. I’m not saying figurative rain. I mean real raindrops on my face, puddles to splash in, cool breezes. On these warm summer days I start to feel like the flowers, droopy and wilted. I need water. And when the rain comes, like the flowers, I too lift up my head and spread my arms to catch a bit of rain. I drink it up, not literally, but in my spirit I am refreshed and revived. I have strength to live again.
My brothers, used to my weirdness, simply mutter under their breath and keep working, as I take off my shoes and socks and dash out into the storm. I’m only outside for a minute. But that minute is the most beautiful of the entire day.