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Friday, June 29, 2012

The sky weeps

The monsoon has begun.

It started gently, and very, very late.

It began as a gentle rain - exactly what this country needed after the worst drought in more than a century. I walked home in the drizzle last night and it was welcome and refreshing.

I woke this morning to a light rain but in the two hours since then, it has built. Now, as I look out my window, I can see waves of water reaching from the sky to the ground. By tomorrow, I know from experience, there will be people wading through waist-high water and subway stations turned into geysers.

I just called home.

I left it too late, I think.

There's a cantankerous, curmudgeonly, incredibly well-read and intelligent man I love and respect, and he's dying.

I'm not real good with being away from the people I care for when they're dying. But I'm away.

This morning, I tried to call his home. I said I would do that every weekend but life got in the way and by the time I thought of it most weekends lately, the time difference made it too late,

Or . . . see above, I'm not real good with being away from the people I care for when they're dying. (I was AWOL for a year as his son died.) Perhaps I'm just not real good with the people I care for dying.

The monsoon has begun.

There's something about a monsoon,

They're deadly - thankfully less so here than in countries such as Indonesia, where every monsoon means flooding of poor neighborhoods.

Monsoons are incredibly powerful. As if Mother Nature/Gaia is slapping you down.

They also renew/reinvigorate/change - just as wildfires do (can I send my monsoon to Colorado, please).

I don't take an umbrella in a monsoon. I accept it as it is, enjoy the elemental nature of it, and pack a change of clothes in a waterproof bag.

This began as a post about the monsoon, segued into how I feel while my friend is dying, and I hoped to find an analogy somewhere between the two.

I can't. Just simple thoughts.

Sometimes it rains.

People die.

Welcome the rain.


Love the people who are worthy of your love.

2 comments:

  1. Thanks sweetie...feel the same way aboot the Arizona monsoons...just let it wash over you and marvel at the power...

    I think the longer the road gets in our rearview mirror the more frequently we pause to say farewell to our fellow travellers...

    As the old lyric goes..someday, somewhere
    Some things get hit by lighting
    And some things just don`t
    Hope we live long and lucky

    I always feel lucky to have travelled a bit of the road with you...

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. the road has not ended yet, my friend

      Delete