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You're only given a little spark of madness. You mustn't lose it. Robin Williams

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Location: Kentucky, United States

Tuesday, May 20, 2003

Rain

It has rained so much lately that the earth seems weary from the weight of it. Puddles lie around the yard like pale oval mirrors reflecting the overcast sky. The discouraged sun has forgotten us it seems; overwhelmed by the battle he has moved on to better climes and has left us sodden and dejected, awash in unremitting twilight.

However, I remember the promise I made that summer, the summer without rain. The grass turned brown and died and the trees all held their breath, waiting. Everyone went about his or her day with a feeling of nervous expectancy. Conversations were broken with sharp glances at the sky, pauses that listened to the sound of the wind, and lips unconsciously tasting the air. Glasses of water were chosen at meals instead of tea, or cola, and sipped slowly, pondered, like an unfamiliar object, seen again for the first time.

When it finally came, I was at work, indoors, under fluorescent filtered air. I had to flee. I stood unashamed in the parking lot, face up, arms out to receive an epiphany of large lazy drops of rain. I promised to never again complain of the presence of this friend, this comforter, and to be thankful that the drought in my soul is now past.

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