It’s unusual for rain this time of year. After a beautiful Fall, November waltzes in tossing sleet and snow like a flower girl at a wedding. It’s a miserable time–no leaves on the trees, dead grass, and no snow to cover the mess.
Tonight, though. Tonight I’m taking refuge at a friend’s hundred year-old farmhouse. Rain pounds on the window and thunder rumbles through the bones of the building. You can feel the rumble through the floorboards.
Thunderstorms are one of my favorite parts of summer. I love sitting on my front steps with Dad watching the clouds roll in. When the lightning gets too frequent, we move indoors and listen.
Having a storm in November feels like a belated birthday gift.
I’m in love with you. The thunder that presses against my windows send a shiver of pleasure down my spine. The pattering of raindrops makes me feel cozy and safe.
Yet… How am I supposed to get anything done with your constant pestering?
You inspire the desire to shirk all responsibility. I can’t stop thinking about you. I want to spend time with you, to stand in your downpour and get soaked to the skin. I want to soak you in.
I want to curl up in a sweater and leggings in a large chair and watch you transform the normally vibrant colors out the window to a mass of fuzzy grey. I want to drink tea and read poetry aloud, letting the cadence of the words rumble in time with your thunder.
Will you wait for me, Rainy Day? Will you linger until my work is done? Will you save up a whisper so, when I crawl in bed tonight, you can sing me to sleep?
All my love,
This post is inspired by an assignment for the Blogging University class Writing 101: Finding Everyday Inspiration.