a window

There is rain running down the window. Blown drops beating against my bedroom window along with the occasional flash of lightening as I first awake, so hard to get out of my warm bed in the dark of 6am. Post shower, I speed up the am routine, already running late. Rain tracks down my kitchen window as I get my coffee and a hurried breakfast while throwing my lunch together. I pull out of the garage and the rain seems almost sad as it corrals itself into little lines while I wait for the garage door to close and turn on the wipers to disrupt each persistent little stream. I battle through a wet whirlwind of slippery cars and frantic high schoolers to drop Rachel off at school (yes... we were late) and head onward to work. All around me water radiates off the windows of my car, encapsulating me in my dry little bubble full of warmth and music. I battle California drivers unused to anything but sunshine, and as I drive through mini-rivers along each road I feel like a true Cali girl, cautious and in wonder even though I know it's just rain. Work is empty. Anyone who has the option to work at home or come in later has stayed tucked away in bed. My office doesn't have windows but the girls and I keep looking out our door to the massive windows across the way. We hear the increase in the storm and we have to see. It's not just the rain itself but the whipping of the wind and the pooling water all over the place. We mermmer small talk about the weather. "Is this goodbye drought?" "Will there be water in the river this summer?" "Maybe we will go inter tubing this summer." First a drizzle, then a rumbling downpour, back to steady drip, then another resurgent booming torrent of rain. Rain is like the color grey. Color stands out against it. Emotions like sadness, excitement, curiousity and desire stand out against the rain. Conflicting and colorful they ebb and flow like the very storm that brought them to the surface.