Today, as I drove home through the puddle pretending to be a freeway, it was so dark that I thought the night sky was raining down into the night, and I turned off my lights, and turned them back on...off, on, off, on...no difference (no cars were near me), but there was no difference, which left me wondering at the quality of lights the individuals over in Honda-land make, when I realized that I couldn't tell which lane I was driving in and the cars behind me were catching up.
I remember in high school a boy who would always complain that during rainstorms in Utah, it's impossible to see the lines for lanes on the road, and ever since then, whenever it rains and I'm driving, all I think about is how I cannot see the lines on the road; it really is impossible.
I remember one summer at Lake Powell looking straight up into the clouds while rain pounded the water and the rocks, and waterfalls flowed, molding the sandstone, making it shine like silver, like newly fallen snow.
I remember one spring, during track practice, a thunderstorm began, and we stayed out there because the wet rain was an enormous relief from the dry heat, but the lightening bolts came closer and closer until too soon one struck feet from us (just a baby lightening bolt) and our hair went staticky, and our coach howled at us to get inside.
I remember one of the first nights in Thailand when it was pouring rain and we didn't want to go to bed, because we were in Thailand and it was pouring rain and how could we go to bed...so, instead, we played a game of barefoot, midnight soccer in the mud in front of our home, and we slipped and tumbled around, t-shirts soaking through, hair dripping wet, eyes brimming joy, mouths laughing softly.
Which reminds me, watch this:
1 comment:
pretty.
Post a Comment