Singing in the Rain
Hmmm. How to begin. Again. Isn't that the quintessential question that I've been mulling for weeks. How to continue an ordinary life with an altered trajectory and yet make it "begin again," with a vibrancy and fervor that lights the inner fire? Some days it has been a wish, a quiet mantra for the sun to come out. And what a stubborn season this has been, the spring that was called for so long that never wanted to arrive. Some days it has been an external push, putting literal flame to scraps and detritus in a heaping pile in the yard, and standing too near to feel the heat and pressure of the old, burning away. Maybe last night it was want of a spark, some static in the air and tension in the clouds and in our hearts. The thunder rolling in the distance called us to the porch after unexpected drama and discord threatened another evening of frustration. And there we sat and could just be, just us, waiting for the storm to come and anticipating nothing more for a