Weather

Terry and I used to say we had found the most perfect little town. It felt like a quiet agreement between us and the world. The people were kind in that easy, unspoken way. The kind that does not ask for attention, yet stays with you. The weather, well, that was another story.

We never complained about the people. Not once. But the weather, that became our shared pastime. Almost a ritual. Morning coffee, a glance out the window, and then a thoughtful evaluation of Mother Nature’s mood for the day.

To be fair, She owes us nothing.

Some days, the sun would pour over everything like a blessing. You could feel it settle into your shoulders, light and reassuring. Those were the days that made you believe anything good was possible. Then, just when we felt settled, May would arrive with snow, as if winter had forgotten something and came back to retrieve it. And the wind. Oh, the wind had its own personality. Some days it whispered. Other days it carried on like it had a point to prove.

This past winter has been especially dry. We have needed moisture in the way a garden quietly hopes for rain. It has also been cold, with a wind that does not negotiate. I skipped a few walks. Not proudly, but sensibly.

Yesterday felt different.

By afternoon, the wind had softened, and the sun made a gentle return. It felt like an invitation. So I laced up my shoes and stepped out, grateful and a little hopeful. The air was cool, but kind enough. I remember thinking, "This is perfect. Let’s take it while we can."

And then, without warning, the sky opened.

No hesitation. No polite drizzle. Just a full, determined downpour, right when I was furthest from any kind of shelter. I ran. Not gracefully. Not thoughtfully. Just ran. Laughing a little, because what else could I do.

By the time I reached home, slightly breathless and entirely soaked, the rain stopped.

Of course it did.

I opened the door and called out, “Honey, I am home.”

The house answered with its usual quiet. But for a moment, just a small, familiar moment, I could almost hear him.

“Alright.”

And then, something softer. A laugh.

I stood there, dripping onto the floor, smiling to myself. Because I knew exactly how that conversation would have gone. We would have reviewed the entire event with great seriousness. The timing of the rain. My unfortunate distance from shelter. The sheer audacity of it all. And then, we would have laughed until it no longer mattered.

Mother Nature, after all, has her ways.

Shall we really expect consistency from something so alive?

I changed into dry clothes, made a cup of tea, and looked out the window once more. The sky was calm again. Innocent, even.

I could not help but feel grateful.

For the walk.
For the rain.
For the laughter that still lingers, even in the quiet.