Rain
“There is no greater agony than bearing an untold story.”
~Zora Neale Hurston
Come, sit at my table. I’ll make you a coffee—I make very good coffee—or tea if you prefer. We’ll breath in the fragrant aroma and watch the rain beat down on my garden. Rainy days are the best days for unburdening the soul, the ozone smell of it loosens the barriers as the water loosens the soil. We are two mice sheltering under a toadstool, as cozy as we can be under the circumstances. If we’re both here, in this place, at this time, we might as well make the most of it.
Tell me your story.
Tell me about that scar, or the one that isn’t visible. Tell me why you freaked out in response to that one anonymous asshole online. Take me with you on that one adventure where you got really scared but were brave. Play your favorite songs for me, tell me at what point in your life they meant the most to you, and let me fill in the blanks as I’m able; and the same with your favorite books. Tell me what you’re reading and listening to right now, and how it makes you feel. Tell me where you feel most at peace, where you feel happiest, where you feel most energized. Tell me about the people who mean the most to you, the ones that drive you crazy, and the ones who are both. Tell me what foods make you close your eyes and moan. Tell me about your favorite smell in the whole entire world. Tell me that you hate choosing favorites, and tell me something else instead. Talk to me…and trust that I will listen, that even if I don’t understand I’ll receive what you say and hold it gently. Tell me something about yourself, and maybe…just maybe…I’ll be really brave and tell you something about me.
Maybe I’ll tell you that it feels lonely inside this skin of mine, and getting lonelier each time I read the news. Maybe I’ll tell you how I broke down sobbing today over a tall patch of grass in my garden because everything in life is feeling like too much all at once. Maybe I’ll tell you how I left most of the grass where it was and harvested greens instead, then went inside and made myself a fresh spinach and brie cheese omelette, because I don’t always have to power through. Maybe I’ll tell you that I adore the sound of a steady rain falling, and how it makes me feel cozy like a barn at night. Maybe I’ll tell you that I’m scared that I’m all washed up as a writer, that I’ve got nothing important left to say.
Look me in the eyes. See me. The world is unraveling around us, and I’m too old to believe that “everything is going to be OK,” when it never really was to begin with. I need someone to take my hand and squeeze it. I need shoulder rubs and hair braiding sessions like I used to do with my girlfriends when I was young. I need to feel not alone.
And maybe you need that, too.
So come, my friend. Let’s raise our mugs, take that delirious first sip…and maybe not say anything at all. Maybe we’ll just sit and drink and watch the rain, and know that right here, right now, we’re both OK. Maybe, when the rain has stopped, we’ll follow my girls outside and jump in puddles, and the world will be whole and perfect for a few wonderful, sodden minutes.
And maybe that will be enough.