I’ve missed the sound of rain and what it looks like when it’s hitting my windshield and being wiped away and immediately reappearing.
It’s ironic that, all these years, my brain has never shut off. It’s been so full. And yet, in answer to that fullness, I stuff it to the brim with news, music, information.
Someone once said that people are afraid to let two thoughts rub together. That has been me. Because thoughts hurt. Thoughts inevitably lead to conversations – you know, those that’s-what-I-should-have-said conversations – with phantom people who have either long since forgotten or never gave a shit in the first place. Thinking hurts. Thinking leads to feelings and feelings hurt. But now that I’ve been loosed by the mercy that death brings to the living, even in the midst of grief, I’m not so afraid of silence.
I’ve missed the rain. It sounds lovely. It sounds peaceful. It sounds soothing. Like floating in the pool without having to go through all the trouble of changing out of a wet suit and neutralizing the chlorine afterward. It sounds like floating. It sounds like peace.
It makes me breathe deeply and it makes me feel gratitude that I’m still here to listen to it and to see it falling on my windshield, almost obscuring the view and then being wiped away and then coming right back again.
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