We've had a couple afternoons of downpours and storms. I've always liked rain, the smells and sounds it brings, and the colors and feelings it turns on. I could have stood at this window pane and watched it endlessly filter my look into our very green and earthy backyard. Lately, though, I have to get myself out of the trance because the melancholy it brings overwhelms me. I am drenched in memories of my father. Flashes of him sick with cancer in his final days battle the surfacing of something else, maybe good memories, the loving times when he was in good health. In time, in time I'm told that things will become less sharp.
I find myself turning to the rain again. In that melancholy the soothing will come. Somehow.