30 March, 2011


It is raining now.

Rain that spits on the sides of my building and the wrought iron gates surrounding my terrace. The sky is grey again which I know, now, tells me that a heavy rain will follow. I hope the dark clouds come my way.

I hear Parisien thunder for the first time. It sounds like my Arizona home during a warm August monsoon. My eyes tell me that I should see the lighting any minute. But I still wait for it. The air has gotten cold swiftly and the soft pellets of rain touch my skin. I can't stay inside. Instead I am on the terrace not only hearing but feeling the thunder 360 degrees around where I stand, I hear it and feel it.

Why does the rain bring such joy? Is it because it washes everything clean, making it all new again? I have never felt so much beauty. Not this intensely at least. I want to almost rejoice in the fact that I have always fought against regret (all the while knowing it is a fact of a life well lived). Today I am, once again, reminded of why.

I know Chat won't be visiting again tonight, the ground too slick and wet to welcome her to my side. But I wish she was here. I wish to have companionship on this beautiful evening. The sun is still awake, I know, even as it hides behind the clouds. After all "changement d'huere" took place two days ago. We now get an extra hour of sunlight in the day. I want to soak it all in: the sounds of rolling thunder, the cool drops of rain, the warmth of my home. 6 weeks in and I feel more at home then ever.

As quickly as it came the rain subsides. But I am, like the streets below me, covered in rain, renewed, cleansed, overjoyed, and at peace.

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