Do you feel that? The weight of the cosmos, pressing down on my head and shoulders. Getting to the bottom of why I feel the way I do, it could go a long way in helping me deal with… well, everything. It would make me a better mom, wife -- person.If only it would storm. If the clouds would collect, pull into the center of the sky and let fly with the water they’re surely holding, I know I’d feel better. At least half of this heartache would be relieved, the pressure released like a tea kettle screaming. And I’m not being metaphorical. I can’t help but believe that if Mother Nature let herself go, I’d be able to. I only know that I am sporadically sad, that I don't know how to express it, and that it’s not your fault. And those are the only words I can pull out of this clear blue sky, the only thing I’ll be able to know for sure until it rains: that, as easy as it would make things, it’s just simply not your fault.
And I love that you offer to drive me to the rain, to chase heavy clouds as they darken and arrive with the storm in some other city, some faraway state. I know I make little if any sense to you, this longing for rain, but you see that I need it, and the offer is real. I shake my head and smile, looking to the sky, because I have to see it fall here, hear it beating on the windows of our home, saturating this little square of earth we own. I look for lightening, and you come and give me some of your own, fingertips to fingertips, and I rest my weary head on your shoulder. We hold our breath and wait.